To a Night At the Opera
by twostrandsofmelody
Summary: Éponine goes to the Opera Populaire with the ABC Cafe, but she is turned away at the door. Not only does she find another way in, but she finds a young man with a dark secret.  Spans 10 years so far. Lots of music used in it!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Because Les Mis is based in 1832 and Phantom is based somewhere between 1860-1890 I've set it after Mme. Giry found Erik at the circus. It should be around 1830's if you think that Mme. Giry was born in the 1820's, and Erik was around the same age as her when she found him.**

**I have my own problems with the age of the Phantom in each version (I love LND but he would significantly older than Christine and it's kinda creepy when you think of it. In the turn of the century Mme. Giry is like in her 50's/60's and Erik would be too, but Christine is in her late 20's, so there's like a 30 year age difference.)**

**But I shant harp on that. Éponine is played by Samantha Barks and the Phantom is defiantly Ramin Karimloo. Also, in this version of the tale Éponine's around 18 or 19 and Erik is probably somewhere around 19-21. **

~o~

"To the opera tonight?" Enjolras questioned Marius, nudging him in the shoulder.

Marius sat his mug down on the table, "Yes, yes. Sorry I was dreaming."

Grantaire burst out in laughter, "That girl in the park has got in you some sort of enchantment."

Éponine felt a tinge of jealousy at the mention of the girl who had caught Marius' attentions and taken away her chance. "Could I go?" It was her only chance to get close to Marius, before it was too late.

"I do not see why not girl," Enjolras responded as he was fixing his loosened cravat, "Come, Marius stop with your boyish pining and readier yourself for a night at the opera where we can all forget the coming rebellion."

~o~

Éponine couldn't help but see the difference between her appearance and those of the women who were entering the Opera Populaire. They were dressed in the finest gowns with silk gloves and opera glasses; their hair was curled and decorated finely. They were being escorted by handsome men who gave them every second of the attention they deserved.

But, here she was tagging a crowd behind her friends. Her "friends". She knew she was filthy and ragged, it was a far cry from who she used to be. She had grown up accustomed to fineries, evenings going to the opera with her parents. But now she looked no better than that servant child they had when she was younger.

"Monsieur, one ticket for the show please." Éponine asked, smiling up at the tall gentleman at door.

He glanced down at her briefly before speaking to the woman behind her, "Madame it is a pleasure to see you again her at the Populaire."

Éponine looked around, wondering if perhaps the man had not seen her, "Monsieur, a ticket, please."

"Monsieur Molyneux! " The man brushed past Éponine as though she was not there.

"Monseiur, I have to money for the ticket," Éponine held her hand out, revealing the appropriate money. It was all she had, and she was willing risk it on Marius. "Do not ignore because of my appearances."

"Mademoiselle Urchin," Replied the man, glaring at Éponine, "You may have the money but we cannot have such urchins attending our shows. What will the guests think of us letting in the pick pocket sort? Be gone now before I call the gendarmes, to get rid of an issue."

Éponine swallowed hard, fighting the urge to argue. Anyone who can pay should be able to see a show. But she knew that arguing would only end in having to flee from the gendarmes and she was not interested in having to run tonight. "Very well, monsieur."

Her last chance to try to weasel her way into Marius' heart was lost because she was an urchin. She knew in her heart that was why he would never see her. The girl he pined for was wealthy and beautiful, no doubt dressed in the fineries of the day. She would always be Marius' poor friend that he looked at in pity. And she wanted no one's pity!

As she walked back towards the Cafe she noticed the alley way beside the Opera Populaire. Was there some other way in? A stage door? Perhaps someone had left it open and she could sneak her way in. It wouldn't be the first time she'd broken an entry, her father had had her do that many times in her life.

Looking around warily, checking for gendarmes and anyone else who might see her, she darted down the alley way. There were no doors, or windows, but there was a grate in the side of the wall.

Éponine examined it. It looked like some sort of vent for the cellars of the Populaire. The miracle of it all was that the grate had been tampered with already, loosened by another stowaway. With a second glance behind her she crawled through the vent. Her starving figure was once a blessing.

But she wasn't expecting the drop that followed making it through the grate. Despite that it was ground level outside it was a few feet above the cellar ground inside. There was a crate to her left, which she suspected was used by whoever had loosened the vent, when they left the cellar.

There was a scuttle farther down the cellar, "Hullo?" Éponine called as she stood up, looking around her more now that her eyes were adjusting to the darkness. "I do not mean to intrude, I'm just..." She shook her head, was she really talking to ghosts now?

She slowly began walking towards the light at the far end of the cellar; she could even hear the faint sound of music. Was that how you got to the stage? Or perhaps to the seats?

Éponine continued creeping through the cellar, constantly on guard in case she had heard someone else. The music became clearer and clearer as she made her way. But it wasn't an orchestra, it sounded like one instrument – an organ. And for that matter, not one that was performing, the player seemed to be practicing the instrument.

"Hullo?" Éponine called again, as she came to crossroads, the cellar split into multiple tunnels and staircases. "A labyrinth." She removed one of the lanterns from the wall, carrying it as she chose a tunnel. She wasn't sure where she was going, but she was hoping it was the right way.

It was many minutes later when she realised the organ music had ceased and that the path she'd chosen led to a dead end.

The darkness was thick and unnerving to Éponine, it was worse than wandering the streets of Paris in the late hours of the night. At least then you can escape, but this way she was trapped if she wasn't alone.

She retreated back towards where she had come from, but something was different. There was no warm glow coming from the crossroads of the cellar. It was dark around her, her lantern flickering as it was burning to its bottom.

Éponine trembled, "Is someone there? I.. Is this your home? I'm sorry.. If.. Oh.." She was making herself more scared with all this talking to a phantom. Who would beneath the Populaire and not be found?

She felt a rat scuttle across her foot, biting her lip to withhold a scream.

Making it back to the crossroads she was tempted to run back to the vent, giving up her attempts to make it up to the show – but she was too fuelled by the thought of being with Marius.

"Oh, which way should I go?" She asked herself, squinting as she looked from each passage. The flickering light of the candle shone off of something white. Éponine could barely make out what the shape was, until it moved.

"The question you should ask yourself is 'oh why have I come here'." The man's laugh was cold and harsh. Éponine screamed, stumbling back and dropping her lantern – the flame's illumination vanishing.


	2. Chapter 2

It was dark in the tunnel way, once the light had vanished from it. "Please don't harm me." Éponine said firmly, searching in the darkness around her. No one seemed near her. In the darkness she could not even hear the sound of another person. It didn't feel like the way if felt when she knew someone was watching her.

She slowly rose to her feet, squinting in the darkness. "I could not 'ave imagined that."

"You didn't." The voice came from behind her; she whipped around swinging her arms out to catch whatever phantom was there, but felt only the air rush through her fingers. "Missed me," the voice taunted, coming from behind her once again.

"What game is this?"

"A game mademoiselle? This is not a game, when you make yourself such easy prey." His laugh echoed in the tunnel, reverberating off of the stone walls causing it to grow louder and louder.

"Stay back." Éponine snapped, blindly walking in the dark in an attempt to find the stairs she had seen.

"I will not hurt you." His voice was melodic and menacing.

"That's what all the men say. But they always do!" Éponine swatted her hands around her, feeling for the man. Still his voice felt close but she felt nothing around her.

"I am not like other men." He replied his hand reaching out to touch her arm.

"Who are you?"

"Beyond on your wildest imaginations."

"That's not an answer."

"Who are you?" He mocked, running his hands down either of her arms.

"I just came to see a show." Éponine bit her lip, shuddering at his touch. "Please let me go."

"Wouldn't you care to know the music I make?"

"No," Éponine retorted, repulsed by what she thought he was instigating. "I am not to be some cellar dweller's whore."

His grasp on her arms tightened and he jerked her, "You are gravely wrong. I am not a cellar dweller, I dwell in the darkest pits of Hell. I am not interested in your body and I am most assured you would never dare to spread your legs for me." Éponine gulped, shivering under his firm grasp, "I aspire for greater students than an urchin from the street. But no one will miss someone like you, so perhaps God has smiled upon me for once in my miserable life."

"Let me go." Éponine jerked, but couldn't shake his grasp. "I have friends they will miss me."

He gritted his teeth, "Too bad." He released for a split second to reverse their positions. "Don't fight too hard, wouldn't want to damage your thin wrists." He tightened a rope around her wrists, tugging her forward.

"What kind of man are you?" Éponine cried out, as she followed behind him without any choice.

"I am the kind of man that not even a mother could love. Soon, in the light of my realms will you discover the dark secrets of me."

Éponine cried, she was used to having control and the upper hand in situations. But somehow all of her common sense had forsaken her for the darkness and the man that she could only describe as a demon of sorts. No man she had ever been near had taken control of her so flawlessly and mesmerizingly.

The tunnel she followed him through led into a grotto and a lake. The lanterns and candelabras lit the grotto and shed light on her masked captor. He motioned grandly to a gondola that was tied to the coast of the lake.

"Where are you taking me?" Éponine whimpered, as he helped her into the boat.

"Somewhere beyond your wildest dreams." A smirk rose across the half of his lip that she could see.

"You wear a mask."

"Perceptive thing, aren't you?" He untied the boat, pushing it from the coast before jumping in. "Your first lesson if you desire to have a peaceful stay. Do _not_ touch the mask. For that matter do not touch my face."

"I'd rather not touch you at all." Éponine snarled, fighting with the tightly tied rope around her wrists. Now that she could see she was trying to formulate a plan to flee. But she could neither swim nor fly so wherever he was taking her she would have to stay.

"Do not try to anger me," He gritted as he rowed the boat. His eyes were roaming over her form. She was a pretty girl, rough around the edges. She was fair skinned, lithe – not like a dancer but like someone who rarely had a healthy meal, she had dark hair the curled softly around her shoulders.

"What are you going to do with me?"

"Do not worry fille, I am not going break your dignity any farther than I'm sure you have already. You are going to be my protégé."

"What will you be making a protégé of? A soulless man who kidnaps innocent girls and keeps them deep in the bowels of the Opera Populaire?"

"You may play an ingénue but do not play me for a fool. A woman on the street is a viper in the bed." He had crawled from the Opera on many occasions to pay for a comforting touch – the only way he would ever find it. "I maybe soulless, but my talent is far beyond your imagination."

"You were the one playing the organ?"

He laughed, "You should have taken that as an opportunity to flee."

Éponine gasped as she saw the coast ahead of them. It was alit with heavenly glow by the massive number of candles. The centre piece of the shore was the massive organ, surrounded by statues.

"What is this place?" Éponine gawked, mesmerised by the realm that was, as he had said, out of her imagination.

"This is my home and it is now yours as well." He jumped from the boat, dragging it on shore. He held out his hand, gloved by black leather, for her to take a hold of.


	3. Chapter 3

"This place, it cannot be real." Éponine said as she gasped, looking around the labyrinth. He let her wander around the, exploring the candlelit realm that was truly beyond her wildest imaginations. How could anything like this dwell underground?

"You find it beyond belief?"

"Yes." Éponine looked around, wide-eyed and mesmerised. "Who are you?"

He chuckled, "A fallen angel? Demon spawn? Your wildest dream and darkest nightmare?" He sat down at the organ, beginning to play. "Which do you find most?"

"I see none. I see a man."

"You do not wander what's behind this mask?"

"It's none of my business."

"Smart girl, you will survive with me then." He grinned, the half of his revealed lip curving up. "Do you have a name?"

"Éponine."

"Éponine." He repeated, testing the words in his mouth. "A good name. Where does it come from?"

"A name in romance novel my mother red when I was born." Éponine stood to his side, watching him play so well with little concentration. "I have shared my name what is yours?"

"Erik." He replied coldly, glancing at her sideways. "Those here at the Opera Populaire call me many other names. Monster, Phantom, Opera Ghost."

"But you prefer Erik?" Éponine asked, stepping away at his glare.

"Yes." He replied bluntly, "Do you sing?"

"Song or two, I've sung along with the guests at the Inn. Pub songs, you know?"

"No." He played a chord on the organ. "Can you sing that?"

Éponine stared at the keys of the organ, "I do not know what you mean."

"Can you mimic this sound," He played the chord again, "With your voice."

"I-" She shrugged her shoulders.

"Stand up straight and," He snapped, rising to his feet suddenly. "You must breathe from-" He stood behind her, pressing his leather clad hand against her stomach, below her rib cage. "Here."

"You couldn't have shown me that without touching me?" She snapped, pushing his hand away from her.

Erik ignored her remark, his hand return to her stomach. "Now repeat this chord." He reached for the organ with his free hand, playing the notes.

Weakly Éponine repeated the sound she heard.

"With power." He pressed against her stomach harder, making her cringe. "Take a deep breath and hit the note."

He played the chord, taking the breath in sync with her and singing out the notes.

"Like that?"

"Exactly like that." He removed his hand and returned to his seat. "You have potential."

"I was hoping if I didn't you would let me go." Éponine sighed, sitting beside him at the organ.

Erik glared at her, inching away from her slightly, he was not so used to having a female so close. So willingly close. Or submissively willing, she had not come here on her own accord. He sat his jaw hard as he fumbled with sheets of music.

"Do you read?"

Éponine laughed shaking her head, tucking her hair behind her ear nervously, "I know simple words."

"We'll work on that. For now," He found the sheet of music he was looking for. He played a line melodic music. "Remember these lyrics; On my own pretending he's beside me."

Éponine nodded slowly, listening to him as he repeated the line of music. "On my-"

"No, there are six measures of music before you begin. Four counts in each measure."

Éponine rose frustrated, "I am not a singer monsieur. Please just let me go."

Erik clenched his fists, "You will stay here."

"Why me? You do not know anything about me. I cannot read nor do I understand music. This is ridiculous." She crossed her across her chest, "If you think by some chance you can turn urchin to ballerina you are sadly mistaken."

"Sing."

"I cannot." Éponine insisted, closing in her eyes in frustration.

"Come here, and sing."

"What if I do not want to?"

"I think it would be in your best interest if you do what I say. I am not letting you go so you best not make your life beneath the Opera House painful." He motioned to the empty spot beside him, "Sit here and I will attempt to teach you."

"Thank you." Éponine said softly, sitting beside him. She leaned on her elbow on the organ, resting her cheek against her fist. "I don't want to make this _arrangement_ difficult."

"Very good," He gritted through his teeth, staring at her. Had he picked the best person to attempt to teach? But Erik had been tired of being alone in his dark cellar. Even now with another presence, the very atmosphere had been lightened in the lair. Antoinette his confidant but she spent very limited time with him, she cared about his health needs but not his biological need to be with another human.

He had been denied the touch of humans for too long. He had only known the pain of strips of leather and cat-o-ninetails against his skin. Not even his mother had allowed him the caring caresses.

"There are four notes in between the treble clef lines. F, A, C, E. Then there are E, G, B, D, and F. You read from bottom to top. With bass clef you read from top to bottom. G, E, C, A and A, F, D, B, G."

Éponine nodded her head to acknowledge that she was listening, despite how confusing that seemed. "Why couldn't they be the same on the top and the bottom?"

"Because that is not how they are." Erik retorted, "Now, these notes are eighth notes, and these are sixteenths." He glanced at her, seeing how confused she was. "Can you not just learn? I can teach you to sing but this is going to take forever."

"Isn't that how long you are going to force me to stay down here?" Éponine snapped, rolling her eyes and sitting up straight.

"You will learn to enjoy your life beneath the ground, Éponine."

Éponine closed her eyes, admitting that for now she was trapped here with this strange phantom who insisted on teaching her to sing.


	4. Chapter 4

A large gold gilded clock chimed out that it was midnight. Éponine sat listening to Erik tell her how to sing properly. He would not seem to comprehend that she had no interest in learning how to sing, or for that fact being stuck like a slave in the depths of an Opera House. How was she supposed to get Marius when he didn't even know where she'd vanished to? But, she knew that if she was going to survive in this strange world of music, with a stranger who wore a mask she would have to tolerate significantly more than she was used to. Which said a lot when her life consisted of dealing with her father and Montparnasse and several other "suitors", and trying to attract the man she was desperately in love with.

"It is late, can this be done? You do sleep don't you?"

"Yes," He narrowed his eyes, adjusting his vest. "You may sleep there," He motioned towards an antechamber that was shrouded by delicate see-through fabrics. There was an elaborate swan bed, bathed in the golden lights.

Éponine's eyes shot wide, "I've never seen a bed like that."

"Go," She bit her lip as she glanced towards the bed. "Go. Do not fear, child. I have no interest in sleeping tonight, especially with you. There is music in my mind and I must put it to paper tonight."

"Thank you," She rose slowly, making her way towards the bed. Perhaps it would not be so terrible here. She'd never had a bed quite like that before. It was grand and gorgeous, but it was not just an attractive looking bed it looked comfortable. She pressed her palm against the mattress. It was.

"Monsieur Erik," Éponine spoke, meaning to thank him but she turned and found him directly behind. Her heart skipped a beat, "I did not hear you there."

"Yes?" His uncovered eyebrow quirked up. His eyes searched face.

"I meant to thank you," She glanced down, feeling uncomfortable under his glare.

"I came to tell you that I will wake you at quarter past six, we will begin your first lesson of the day then. At half past seven we will share breakfast." Erik gulped at the thought; Antoinette had never been able to stay to have breakfast with him she was always needed for her own lessons. After Éponine was soundly asleep he would go to tell her what he had done, request she bring them both food for the day. "Then I will _attempt_ to teach you more about notes and the sounds that they make until the clock strikes noon. At that time we will break for a two hour period, which we will share our dinner in and talk. We will resume your training until supper, and then return to training after."

Éponine started him with a blank expression before bursting out laughing, "You do not really mean that?"

"What?" His lip curled up in a grimace.

"I cannot be taught to sing nearly all day! Do you want to drive me mad?"

"You _will_ do as I say." His fists clenched tight, before her turned sharply on his heels and left her.

Éponine shook her head, knowing there was no way she could make it through the day. His arrangement was unsettling; he intended to spend every waking moment with her. Was he so starved for companionship that he would kidnap and force someone to take on the role? He was not a bad looking man, though the mask was off-putting. The side of his face that you could see, seemed nice enough. Nothing like her Marius, but nice.

She pulled the covers down, relishing the feel the silkiest satin beneath her fingers. She kicked off her shoes, removed her belt, and nervously removed her skirt. It left her in her bloomers and chemise, which left her feeling bare in unfamiliar company. But, Erik had busied himself with playing haunting melodies at the organ, seeming uninterested in her like she was familiar with most men.

This bed was heaven. And it didn't take her very long to fall asleep.

~o~

"It is time to wake up." The voice penetrated her dreams, luring her back into the waking world. "Éponine, it is time for your lessons." The voice sang to her senses. How was it that a normal man had such a surreal voice?

Éponine rolled over in the bed, covering her face with her arm. "I'm waking up." She mumbled, rubbing her eyes. It hadn't been a dream because the man with the masked face was still there. She was really asleep in a grand Persian Swan bed with the finest satin sheets.

And she was still the prisoner of a mad masked man who insisted on teaching her to sing.

"For you," He held out a pale blue dress, it was a beautiful dress. It was delicate and flouncy and something she imagined seeing Cosette in – not her.

"For me?"

"For you," He repeated, a smile curving his revealed lip.

Éponine pulled the covers up around her as she sat up in the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "How many other women have you kept down here?"

"You are the first," He laid the dress on the bed, "But I have been preparing for something like this."

"Please turn around." She said, as she started to get out of the bed. Sure, several men had seen her undressed, but that didn't mean she was comfortable with this stranger seeing her.

As she examined the dress she kept checking to make sure that he was obeying her. Erik never seemed to even flinch as she rustled the dress to get into it. "Can you get the laces, please?" She asked hesitantly, turning around and brushing her hair over her shoulder.

Erik stared at her laces, examining them. The thought of lacing her dress up was a dizzying duty. With his gloved hands he slowly began to lop them together, tugging at them to keep it tight around her waist. Making sure that it fit her snugly.

"Thank you," She said quietly as she bit her lip in pain. She was not used to such tight fitting clothes, nor was she used to grand beautiful things.

"Come we must begin your lesson before we waist away this morning with useless 'thank you's." Éponine turned to find him already striding towards the organ.

He was a strange man. She felt that the mask was just the beginning of the mysteries that surrounded the "Phantom" the "Ghost" the "Monster", the man named Erik.

**A/N: Erik is like the Webber Phantom more than the Leroux. I love both, but I think Webber's half mask is more romantic because you can see at least one side of emotions. Éponine is also not "pure" and "innocent" like I've wrote her in the past. She has made her money selling herself, and pleasing her father's friends. **


	5. Chapter 5

Éponine stood by the organ as he played chord after chord, scale after scale. He had told her that mimicking the notes that he was playing with her voice would in return warm her voice and help the notes flow more freely and more gracefully. In truth, the notes were only giving her a splitting headache.

"Can we please just stop for a few moments?"

"No, we will break for breakfast when the clock is on half past seven. I do not like interruptions in the schedule."

"But I do not understand all of this stuff," She motioned to the organ and the stacks of sheet music perched on top of the instrument. "You are wasting your time."

Erik's hands clenched into fists, "If I do not think that my time is being wasted then my time is not being wasted." He turned to give her an askance look, "You are hitting most of the notes weakly, you need power. "

"I have two levels, Monsieur. Talking and screaming." Éponine retorted, crossing her arms across her chest.

"Do we need to go through the proper way of standing?" He growled, standing up in a quick motion. "You do not stand with your arms crossed," He pulled her arms away from her body. "You also have to stand up _straight_." He punctuated the last word by forcing her shoulders back.

"You're hurting me." She bit, jerking his hands from her shoulders.

"Do as I say and I will not hurt you any further." He gritted, his jaw setting hard. "We have a quarter of an hour to finish your scales." Erik sat back at the organ, playing a high scale. "Sing."

Éponine opened her mouth and tried to follow the increasing scale, as it difficult as it was.

"Open your mouth, let your jaw relax, let the sound flow." He purred as she obeyed his words. No matter how hard she tried, when he spoke so smooth and so, for lack of better explanation – seductively, she had difficulties ignoring his commands.

~o~

"What do you expect to gain from teaching so wretch from the street how to sing?" Éponine asked as she sipped the tea he had served with breakfast.

"I need someone to work on to achieve my goals." He replied coldly, taking a careful bite from the pastry that Antoinette had delivered early that morning. He was not accustomed with eating in company, and his mask pulled painfully at his tender flesh with each bite.

Éponine studied him as they ate. He kept his eyes down, hardly ever looking up at her. And when he did it was only in violent flickers of his emerald eyes when she said something that perturbed him. The mask formed to his face perfectly, covering the right side of his face and shielding her from whatever lay beneath. The mask covered the majority of his nose, arching around his lip and drawing down and back up along the side of his head, snugly fitting to the hair line, it finished just above his left eye before it hooked back down to his nose.

What was behind it? She would never know.

"You are staring." He growled, his eyes meeting hers.

"I am sorry. It is just alluring." She mumbled, taking a large bite of her pastry. He envied her ability to eat and drink so carelessly. Each bite he took had to be slow and calculated, the mask pulling at the overly sensitive skin as his jaw moved. The mask bit into the tender skin of his lip each time he took a sip from his goblet, the rough edge of the mask rubbing his lip raw.

"Your curiosity will get the best of you if you do not control it. I do not enjoy your scrutinizing eyes."

"They are not scrutinizing you. I am merely curious about you. It is not often I am taken by a musically possessed phantom."

His lip curled up into a cruel grin, "Possessed is a fitting term for a phantom like myself. Possessed and deformed by Lucifer himself."

Éponine's eyes shot wide at his words. He seemed so comfortable in admitting an alignment with the Devil. What had she fallen prey too?

Erik laughed at her horrified face, "Yes my little ingénue, you are in the company of the Devil's servant. For only he could accept me as the monster I am. But we have dined long enough, come we must begin on teaching you the notes."

They both rose to their feet, the table separating them. "Monseuier, please just let me go. I will never tell a soul that you are here." Erik snarled at her when she backed away from his advances.

"You will do all that the Phantom asks of you," He grabbed her by her wrists, jerking her back towards the organ. Éponine dug her heels into the ground, her feet bare against the carpets he had laid across the stones.

"Let me go. Please!" She shouted, fighting against his hold.

"Silence." He whispered in that low and mesmerizing tone, turning to stare into her eyes. "Silence Éponine, and listen to the Phantom's orders. It will keep you safe in his company and will prevent you from learning the full wrath of him."

Éponine shrank away as he released his hold of her wrists. "You cannot expect me to want to listen to a man who claims alignment with the Devil." She smoothed her hands over her wrists, sinking to the ground in the shroud of her dress.

"Come, child," He ignored her as he sat at the organ. He glanced over his shoulder, the good side of his face showing. "Come sit so we can begin your lesson." His voice was no longer thick with venom and hate; he seemed to have forgotten his anger.

Éponine sat and stared at him in awe. How was it that he was yelling and hurting her one moment and then so calmly and elegantly asking her to sit beside him and learn? She rose slowly, guarded as she approached him. If she did not know that there was a mask on his other cheek, he was a truly handsome man.

"Come," He motioned again, before shuffling through his sheets of music to find the sheet he had scripted last night with the full of scale penned along with its associated letter. "Here, we will begin with the treble cleff. Do you remember this note?"

"F." Éponine replied shakily, staring at the first note between the first two lines. She glanced at him for his approval, receiving only a slow nod as he moved finger to the line below it. "E." Erik slid his finger up the paper, pointing to the very top line. She hesitated, "E?"

"No. F"

"Word association helps. **E**very, **G**ood, **B**oy, **D**oes, **F**ine. And then 'Face' is easy to remember?"

Éponine bit her lip, nodding her head slowly. "Yes."

"These are the corresponding notes on the organ." He spoke each letter as he played each note.

"How do they sound?" She questioned, confused as he played.

Erik glanced at her, "Like this." He took a deep breath and sang out the pitch of each note before he played it. He jaw slacked in awe. "If you could keep your jaw like that you might be able to sing correctly."

"You're voice. You cannot claim the devil's advocate with the voice of an angel."

He cringed at her word, "I am no angel Éponine."

"But a voice like tha-"

"We are not here to talk about my voice we are here to make you sing."

"I was just saying."

Erik ignored her, playing a note on the organ. "What note?"

"C?" She guessed.

"Correct." He played the next note but she answered incorrectly, "You have natural talent, I just need to hone it."

~o~

"Is it dinner time yet?" Éponine questioned, trying her best to pay attention. Music and singing did not interest her in the least and she only attempted to stay focused because she feared his wrath if she didn't.

"Antoinette as not brought down our food," he replied as he rummaged through a stack of sheet music that had the scribbles of a mad musician on them.

"Antoinette?"

"She is the ballerina who brought me here." He replied coldly, as he began to play the notes in succession. "Here pay close attention to the sounds that some notes make. Do you hear how some of the notes do not sound as beautiful? Then when you add flats and sharps it changes the melody. You cannot just sit and play notes and hope for music. There is a method behind it all, a pattern in creating enchanting melodies."

Éponine stared at him for a long moment, long enough that he turned to see what was making her stare so intently.

"What is it?"

"Do I look like I comprehended anything you just said?"

"_Try_." He growled, pointing his long gloved finger at her. "I am not asking for perfection on your first full day of lessons. Perhaps in a month's time."

"You expect me to endure this for a month?"

"I was thinking a significantly longer time." He retorted coldly, rising from his seat at the organ. "I do not intend to ever let you leave."

Éponine's eyes followed him as he moved around his lair. "To hear two voices singing in my labyrinth is what my songs have always needed. You are here until my songs die."

There was a distant sound of a bell chiming, "What is that?"

"Antoinette. I will return." Erik flawlessly moved towards the coast and his gondola, "Practice in my absence, I believe you will blossom when you lose your shyness."

Éponine watched him set off, before setting to explore his strange world. She had noticed that several of his busts that sat around the room had had the right side of the faces chiselled off, as if mimicking whatever disfigurement he had.

The more she explored the more she was torn between feeling horrified by the masked man or sympathetic. He seemed to have been wallowing in this realm for so long that he had forgotten what being human was. There were only two things that she had seen him concerned about; music and his mask. He used his musical talents to make up for whatever imperfection lay behind the white mask.

Éponine wondered if Marius had noted her absence, if he had looked for her. Probably not. Knowing the way things seemed to be progressing with Cosette and he, he was probably taking her in turns about the park, being charming and handsome for some other girl while she sat encaged by a phantom in the pits of the Opera House.

She spotted a curious creation sitting on one of the many surfaces of the lair. It was a cymbal playing monkey, sitting atop of a music box. She touched it carefully, startled when it began to play a soft little melody. It was a haunting song that made her smile sadly.

"What are you doing?" She whirled around to see Erik standing there, his cape billowing behind him. "Who told you that you could touch _my_ things? You little prying whore!" He snarled pushing her roughly away from his music box.

Éponine shrieked as she hit the ground, unprepared for his sudden outrage. "I'm sorry! I didn't think you would be back so soon. I didn't know."

"You do not touch what is not yours! You do not touch my things!" He loomed over her, his face contorted in anger. "You are guest here! Even less than that." Erik lowered himself down beside him, laughing as she scooted away from him. "Are you afraid of me?"

"Don't hurt me." Éponine couldn't believe the fear he caused in her. Of all of the drunkard and bastards she had had to deal with in life, none had ever caused such a fear. She cringed when she felt his cool, glove covered fingers brushing across her cheek.

Erik grinned, the power of fear was intoxicating and Éponine fed him with her terror.

**A/N: I want this to eventually have a good/sad ending but I REALLY like cruel, cold, angsty Erik. I would love to eventually have him *cough*take her*cough* forcibly. Just because this is pre-Christine and pre-control. This is really how I picture a young Erik, uncivilised and still healing from the torment of the gypsies. What do my readers want to see?**


	6. Chapter 6

Supper was silent.

So much for his plans of having a nice supper with a companion. But what had he expected bringing someone into his world? No one would willingly accept the duties of companionship to a foul, hideous, masked man who was crazed and deranged like the sin that he was. After the way he had frightened her, he was surprised that she managed to keep herself together at supper. They had spent dinnertime apart, he insisted she take a nap and eat her food while he worked on a new piece.

Éponine sat stiffly across from him; her eyes never came up from her food. She didn't want to repeat the incident at breakfast where she had been caught staring at him. Every nerve in her body was on edge, scared at what would happen if she made the wrong decision.

She was not going to submit and become some simpering student who obeyed every command from her dark and unusual tutor. It was not in her nature to stand around and be ordered what to do. She never listened to her father and she'd be damned to listen to a stranger.

But that didn't mean that she would be absolutely terrified of him. It had to be the mask that hid part of him from her, any other man and she would be showing him exactly what kind of girl he was trying to best.

Éponine had had to deal with men far more temperamental than Erik was. In her life she had had to find other ways to make a sou or two and most many found her pretty for a poor urchin. Perhaps this was the way that she could calm this strange man?

She could seduce him.

Without a doubt she knew that he would probably curse her and hurt her again. Only worse.

He did not seem like the kind of man that would enjoy being seduced. He barely seemed comfortable when she sat too close to him at the organ.

She choked on her wine. How were they going to continue with her lessons after his outburst because she had touched the music box?

The air between them was unbearably thick now. One little mistake and now she was trapped like a slave even more.

Éponine glanced up quickly, surprised to see Erik staring at her. She had felt his eyes on her, but she hadn't believed her intuition. She made a little gasp sound, her eyes returning to her food.

"Are you nearly finished?" He questioned dryly, drumming his fingers on the table out of boredom.

"Yes." She patted the napkin to her lips, keeping her eyes down.

"We have several more hours of your lessons to finish," He spoke slowly, that smooth and seductive tone again flooding her senses.

"Thank you for supper." She replied softly, trying to fight the tremor of fear in her throat. "What are we learning tonight?"

"We are going to work on our duet."

"Our duet?" Éponine's eyes widened as the words fell from her lips.

"Yes, our duet." No smile creased his lips, no emotion at all. "A new composition I am working."

"I cannot read, monsieur. That will make this difficult."

"You will make do." He retorted, rising from his seat and moving across the room. "Come along."

Éponine closed her eyes, mustering the strength to follow after him. "What is the song called?"

"It stands untitled. It is not finished yet." He laid the sheet music out across the backboard of the organ. _"_I will sing_ There's a place for us. Somewhere a place for us. Peace and quiet and open air. Wait for us. Somewhere._ And then you will respond, "_There's __a time for us. __Someday a time for us. Time together. With time to spare. Time to look. Time to care. Someday._" Erik's fingers flawlessly played the notes as he sang each of their parts.

Éponine watched breathlessly, the lyrics sang to her heart as his voice soared through the lair. "You wrote that?"

Erik nodded, brushing his hand over his black hair. "Now here we begin." He started back over playing and singing his part of the song before giving her a nod when it was her time to begin. She remembered the lyrics, singing them with all of her power.

"Was that.. Correct?" She whispered, afraid to talk to loud and break the power of the moment.

Erik smiled, "Yes now let's continue with the song. I will sing _'somwhere a new way of living_' and you will respond with '_we'll find a way of forgiving, somewhere_'_. _We will then sing together '_there's a place for us. A time and a place for us. Hold my hand and we're half way there. Hold my hand and I'll take you there. Somehow. Someday. Somewhere._'"

Their duet took wings and grew into the most beautiful song that Éponine had ever heard. Her eyes closed as she was entranced by the melody of the music and their voices. He began the song again and this time she sang with more power, though she knew she was horribly off pitch. Her hand rested on his shoulder as he played and their voices entwined together.

"That is enough for tonight." He said abruptly the music and the melodies jarringly haulting.

"Monsieur Erik." Éponine said breathlessly, staring down at him with wide eyes. "That was beautiful."

"Je vous remercie, mon épine peu." He smiled, staring up at him. "It is time for you to sleep now. Go. Morning will come soon."

"Bonsoir mon tuteur masqués." Éponine took a risk and leaned down and placed a kiss upon his good cheek. Knowing she was risking everything that they were working towards.

There was no anger or curses. Only a puzzled man her held his cheek in awe and watched an angel from above walk away.

**A/N: Just you wait! Tomorrow they'll be at each other's throats again. Also translation since I realise I use French a lot and do not translate. He said to her; "thank you, my little thorn." Which I thought was funny because it was ****épine which was close to ****Éponine! So she's going to be used as "little thorn" in other stories I think. And she said to him, "goodnight, my masked tutor". I had to put a little softness in this or my muses were going to torture me!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Plans have been made! I know, for the most part, what's going to happen next!**

**~o~**

A week of lessons had passed by quickly. They had yet to kill each other, though they both knew that it could happen at any time. The mornings were always the worst part of their day, they fought and they bickered – but then when evening came they were gentler to each other.

But Éponine was growing more and more curious about what lay behind his mask. Dangerously curious. When he sang his very soul out in her lessons, her fingers itched to reach out and stroke his face, only to jerk the mask away to reveal whatever he hid.

But she knew that it would be detrimental to her stay with him.

"How is your mask kept on?" Éponine blurted while they were having dinner one afternoon. Erik's eyes instantly grew cold at the mention. "I'm sorry, it's just I've noticed there are no ties holding it."

"Why do you want to know?"

"I was just curious. Forget it."

Erik took another bite of his croissant, ignoring the pain that was streaking across his face. He watched Éponine carefully, finding the way she instantly shrank when she knew she made a mistake comical. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yes."

"It is not as fantastic as I am sure you believe it will be. It is a simple paste, made from different plants and chemicals. It creates a sticky substance that a brush onto my mask to affix it. It dries after a few moments and it lasts until the evenings when I remove it."

"You do remove it?" Éponine asked, taking a nervous bite of her croissant.

"Before you arrived." He replied, his jaw setting hard.

"Does the glue irritate?"

"Yes."

"Then why do you wear it?"

Erik narrowed his eyes, brushing his gloved hands clean with a napkin. He was silent as he rose from the chair, moving across the room towards the organ. He sat down at the organ and began playing a haunting melody.

"Erik," She spoke quietly, her voice lost in the echoing reverberations of his song. Wondering what was beneath the mask was driving her insane.

"Erik," Éponine repeated, letting her hand rest on his shoulder.

"Sing." He commanded, the melody becoming louder and familiar. It was the song he had began training her to sing.

"On my own," She opened her mouth beginning to sing the song as strong as she could, "Pretending he's beside me. All alone I walk with him till morning. Without him," Éponine's hand ran across his back, the music luring her into losing her inhibitions.

The organ stopped, but she kept singing. "I feel his arms around me. And when I lose my ways, I close my eyes and he has found me." Erik rose from the organ, turning to her.

"Sing." He commanded again as he placed one hand on her shoulder and one at her waist, moving her hands to where he wanted them. As she sang they began to move, dancing.

"In the rain, the pavement shines like silver. All the lights are misty in the river." Éponine wet her lips, staring up at her dancing partner in a complete trance. "In the darkness the trees are full of starlight. And all I see is him and me forever. And forever."

Éponine shivered at the words she sang. The lyrics were beautiful. "And I know it's only in my mind. That I'm talking to myself and not to him."

Erik pulled her closer as they danced his face only inches from her as she sang. "Sing for me Éponine."

"And although I know that he is blind..." Éponine took in a sudden breath, but her words rushed from her lips in a whisper, "Still I say there's a way for us." Every inch of her body felt on fire as she stared into his emerald eyes. In that moment he was no longer her strange tutor he was like any other man she had been with. Montparnasse or Pierre or Henri.

"Erik," She murmured leaning up and pressing her lips against his. His body tensed beneath her, every fibre was coiled like a spring, unresponsive and rigid.

Then, he was suddenly responding to her with a crazed assault.

He had never been willing kissed. Never imagined anyone would want to. It was strange and new and all for his taking.

The mask bit into her lip every time he deepened the kiss and before Éponine could even think through her next action it was done.

All of her curiosities and her desires built up in that one moment, as she reached up to rip the mask from his face.

Erik screamed in pain and anger as he his hand flew to cover his face he shoved her to the ground. "Little viper! I should have known that a kiss from you had alternative motives." He hissed, looming over her.

"I'm sorry!" She gasped, holding the mask to her chest. She shrank as Erik lowered himself above her. "Please don't hurt me."

"Why would I _dare_ to hurt you after how you just destroyed me?" His free hand roughly grabbed her face, as his left eye bore into her eyes. "Why would I want to break you until till there are nothing but little shards too broken to ever mend back together?"

Éponine gasped, trying to jerk her head from his hand. He was strong and he was powerful, and mesmerizing. She was weak in comparison to him. "Please, Erik, I didn't mean to."

Erik suddenly smacked her across the face, the leather of his glove burning against her tear stained cheeks. "Just like I didn't _mean_ to do that?" He ran his hand along the curve her neck, to the swell of her chest, his fingers danced down between the valley. Erik relished in the feel of the woman penned beneath him. "How easy it could be for me to let my darkest dreams unwind."

"Please," Éponine's voice cracked, "I'm sorry."

"So am I." Erik pressed his body against her, his lips travelling along her collar bone.

"Please!" Éponine screamed, fighting to push him from her. She would not let him get the best of her. "Stop!" She punched at his chest, kicked at his legs, and jerked at his every touch.

"This is what you get for angering the Phantom!" Erik growled, catching one of hands that was beating against her chest. He pulled back and glared down at her. His assault stopped, the fear in her eyes was not intoxicating this time. Only a reminder of what kind of monster he was.

"Go. Leave." Erik snarled as he pushed himself to his feet, making his way across the lair. "Go now and forget me."

"I can't." Éponine followed after him, holding the mask in front of her. "Your mask."

"Why won't you leave?" He whipped around, his hand still glued to his face. "All you wanted was to leave and now I am telling you that you can leave."

"I haven't said that all week. I am used to your brooding behaviours now." Éponine hesitantly approached him, "Take your mask."

He ripped the mask from her hand, holding the mask against his cheek. "Why will you not leave me?"

"I don't want to leave you alone."


	8. Chapter 8

There were no lessons that evening. Erik ordered her to bed under strict orders that she was not leave until he woke her in the morning. The dark velvet curtains were dropped around, leaving her alone to dwell over what had happened while his haunting music echoed around the cavern.

Why had she done it? When everything was going well, they even got along for the most part. Now, she had destroyed it all with the flick of her wrist and the slight of her hand. She hadn't even been able to catch a glimpse of his face to see what horror's he hid. Erik had shown her just how unhinged he could become with the slightest upset.

Why hadn't she taken his orders to leave? Now she had condemned herself to spending more of her life beneath ground.

The music stopped abruptly, causing curiosity to once again fill Éponine. She slipped silently from the bed, tip-toeing across the floor towards the thick curtain. She found the edges and made the smallest sliver of a space to peak out thru. She could see Erik's dark figure looming around the organ, rifling through papers in an attempt to find either a blank piece or the arrangement he was looking for.

His mask was off. Éponine gulped as she strained her eyes to see his disfigurement, but he was turned away from her view.

"Just turn, just a look." She whispered to herself, willing him to turn. She wanted to know.

Erik turned suddenly, his eyes staring at the curtain. Scared at both what she saw and being discovered, she backed away slowly. Feeling the bed behind her, she turned and crawled into bed as quickly as she could. Closing her eyes and curling up like she always did when she was asleep.

The curtain tore back, as Erik stormed through. She was asleep. He could have sworn he had seen her peering through the curtains, trying to catch a glimpse of his ugliness. His mask would not return for a day at the least, until the swelling and tenderness became more bearable. Éponine had ripped it from his face quite roughly, pulling away skin and causing his disfigurement to bleed.

No matter how soft and delicious her lips felt they would never make-up for the pain he had suffered from her blunder.

He stared down at her, wondering how she could sleep after what had happened – what she had done. Erik bit his glove off, stroking his bare knuckles across her skin. She was real, she was not a phantom sent to torture his soul into further damnation. She was as caporal as he was.

Éponine shifted in her 'sleep', leaning against the touch of his hand. No soon had she then it was gone, and the only sound was that of the curtain flapping shut. She opened her eyes slowly, to see that he had left.

~o~

"Erik, may I come out?" Éponine called, sitting curled in the blankets of the bed. She had been lying there for two hours past six in the morning. "I am hungry."

"No. Stay in there. I have arranged with Antoinette to bring your breakfast all the way to you." His voice retorted back, just outside of the curtain, "You must pay for what you did."

Éponine wanted to admit that she had seen his face, though it was brief, to tell him she could accept him for whatever was wrong with him.

"Erik, what about our lessons?"

"I need time," Erik touched his face, cringing at the pain, "I have music I must write and I cannot have you interfering."

"You expect me to sit behind this curtain until you want to let me go?"

"I gave you the option to go and you wouldn't take it." Erik retorted harshly, "I told you to leave, to forget all that you have seen. But, no, you had to be a thick brat and stand your ground."

"I could not leave you down here alone."

Erik laughed, "Don't pity me. Satan's child does not deserve pity. A lifetime of hate and loathing isn't even enough for me."

"You're being ridiculous." Éponine whispered, frustrated by the curtain between them.

"Do you not remember how easy it was for me to attempt to take you?"

"But you didn't."

Erik laughed coldly, "Try me again and you will not be so fortunate." She was as delusional as he had been in the 'care' of his abusive Gypsy masters. No matter how many times the whipped him, leaving his back and chest, his arms and his legs raw and torn, he wouldn't try to leave them. They were the only family he had ever known.

"It doesn't have to be this way."

"Si innocente, si folle." He hissed as he pushed the curtain aside, stepping in backwards. "What is it about a man in a mask that has you so mystified?"

Éponine gasped at his sudden appearance, "I just don't understand how anything could be as bad as you are making it to be."

"How does the idea lumps of misshapen skin that grew in all of the wrong places. An eye that's skin droops below it, an ear that never grew fully, and a nose that grew all wrong. It would make you think second about all of your kissing."

"Erik," She sat down on the edge of her bed as he pulled the curtain shut, darkness engulfing them. "What are you doing?"

"Don't worry fille, I want nothing to do with you. I only want to give you the opportunity to let your imagination run wild."

"What do you mean?"

"Come here," She felt his hand against hers. "Don't be afraid of what I am going to do to you be afraid of what you have done to yourself."

"You're gloves are off," Éponine let him tug her up, guiding her hand to his face. She gasped as her fingers came in contact with his face. She had seen it in a blur of motion last night, but could hardly be able to give anyone an accurate description of it. Her fingers moved across the lumpy and crinkled skin, "Were you burned?"

"No."

"Acid?"

"No."

"Then what?"

"I was born this was. My mother claims the Devil himself impregnated her with the seed that made me."

Éponine brushed her fingers across the skin, trying to envision it. "It's.."

"What?"

"I can't explain it."

"Horrifying? Terrifying? Mortifying? Petrifying? Sickening?"

"No."

In one growl, Erik shoved her away and flew back through the curtains. His body was aching because of her. She was so naive that she didn't understand what she was messing with he was an untamed monster just waiting to lash out. Every gentle touch sent a burning flame into his dark pitiful soul that made him want to destroy everything she was.

She was some poor urchin he happened upon one day that he thought he could control and now suddenly she was controlling him.

**A/N: French translation: _Si innocente, si folle_ -"So innocent, so foolish." _Fille_ - Girl**

_**Stockholm Syndrome**_** is a term used to describe a paradoxical psychological phenomenon wherein hostages express adulation and have positive feelings towards their captors that appear irrational in light of the danger or risk endured by the victims, essentially mistaking a lack of abuse from their captors as an act of kindness.**


	9. Chapter 9

Antoinette carefully climbed from the boat, looking around the lair. She had been ordered by Erik to bring his "guest's" meal to her, and to let her have time outside of the curtains. She knew Erik would be temperamental with her because she had been horrified to see him without his mask. Sure, she had seen him as a child when she rescued him, but he had matured and hidden the disfigurement since then. To see him whole was terrifying.

"Mademoiselle?"

Éponine appeared from the thick black curtains where the swan bed was, "And you are?"

"Antoinette Giry," She dipped into a low, very ballerina, curtsey. "Erik sent me to keep you company while he is away."

"Why has he left?" Éponine questioned, approaching Antoinette slowly. "I did not mean to anger him."

She shrugged, "Erik is still as temperamental as he was when I first found him. He is not one who is comfortable with expressing himself verbally. Listen to his music if you want understand him."

"If he has you as a friend why did he take me?"

"You are not here on your own free will?" Antoinette shook her head in disbelief, "Erik is uncomfortable in the presence of anyone who has seen his face. He obsesses with the disfigurement."

"I saw only a glimpse of it," Éponine admitted, feeling her cheeks blush with embarrassment. "I removed it."

Antoinette gasped, "That explains why he is wandering around without his mask."

Éponine frowned, "You saw him?"

"Yes, and it was not the first time I have seen his defect. I am the one who brought him to the theatre. He was-" She paused, "It is not my story to tell."

"Please," Éponine asked, taking a hearty bite from the croissant on her breakfast tray.

"No," She shook her head, "It is not my place to give away his secrets. Is he treating you well? He has a temper and a violent streak."

"He told me to leave, but I cannot leave him."

"Do you have friends and family that are missing you?" She questioned ignoring the foolish girl's answer that proved she was beguiled by the magic of Erik's presence.

"Yes," Éponine replied sadly as she remembered Marius for the first real time. He had always haunted her dreams. "I came here a week ago to see a performance with them, but I was turned away at the door."

Antoinette looked over her shoulder, nervously looking for a shadow to give away Erik's presence, "Where are these friends of yours usually found?" Éponine would never leave without being forced, she was too compelled by Erik to leave.

Éponine smiled softly, thinking of Marius, Enjolras, Gavroche, Grantaire and her friends of the ABC Cafe and even smiled thinking of Montparnasse and her family. "Oh! Could you tell them where I am? I'm not sure if Marius would be missing me, even if he knew how much I miss him."

"Is he a suitor?"

Éponine shrugged, "No. He has never noticed my love for him. Coming here with him had been my last effort to win him. But there's Montparnasse, I fancy him quite a bit. He's missing me I'm sure."

Antoinette nodded, listening intently, "Then why don't you come with me and you can go and see them?"

"No. Erik needs me."

"Erik needs no one. He has lived here for twelve years now. He lived years before that essentially alone. His ways cannot be changed. You cannot let yourself be trapped in this life. He has a wounded mystery about him that makes you want to help him. But he does not want to be helped. I know him well enough to know, you could have been any unfortunate passerby."

"Please don't."

"You need to hear this. He has caught you in a spell that needs to be broken. I admit that I was once under the spell. But, honestly, life cannot be lived with a heartless composer in the dark underbelly of an Opera House."

"I will not leave him alone. I know all too well what a life lived alone is like, Mademoiselle. It is my life and for once I have no one telling me how to live it."

"But he has told you that you must sing and he controls you."

Éponine frowned, "Please stop trying to turn me against him." It was true, she knew it was, but she was fighting it. "I can make his life better."

"You are a foolish girl," Antoinette snapped, turning on her heels. "I cannot help you, if you don't want my help." She pushed the boat down the shore, jumping into it to leave. "Erik will return shortly after noon, he requests that before then you've returned to your bed."

Éponine finished her meal in solitude before making her way to the organ. She ran her fingers over the keys, thinking of how eloquently Erik could play them. How he could make you feel any emotion through his haunting melodies.

Antoinette had been correct; no matter what she thought was true Éponine was being held prisoner by his music. He was a handsome man on at least half of his face, but the truth was that as far as she had seen his heart and soul were as disfigured as his other half. He was music and his voice were the only things beautiful about him.

Éponine shuffled through his scores of music, finding one she had not seen before. The title was, if she was reading the letters correctly, _Tonight_. Studying the music she began humming along with the notes, finding that she had actually been learning what he taught.

"Tonight, tonight. It all began tonight. I saw you and the world went away. Tonight, tonight. There's only you tonight. What you are, what you do, what you say."

"Today, all day I had the feeling. A miracle would happen. I know I was right." Éponine gulped as she heard his voice behind her, distant and at the coast. She hadn't heard him return?

Despite her fear, she continued – their voices blending together as one. "For here you are. And what was just a world is a star. Tonight."

"Don't turn around," Erik said softly, as his voice grew closer.

"Tonight, tonight. The world is full of light. With suns and moons all over the place." As they sang she felt his hand brushing across the back of her neck. "Tonight, tonight. The world is wild and bright. Going mad, shooting stars into space."

Éponine gasped as her vision was stolen by a black blindfold.

He finished singing, knowing she didn't know the words to finish the duet. "Today the world was just an address, a place for me to live in. No better than alright. But here you are and what was just a world is a star. Tonight."

"Erik." She whispered, as he turned her in his arms. "I did not hear you return. I am sorry. I thought I had more time."

"Shh," He replied in a rasp, placing his finger over her lips. "To return to find that you have been absorbing our lessons brings me great joy." His breath was hot against her face. "Antoinette says that you feel pity for me."

"That is not what I said."

Erik glared at her, unable to see her eyes to decipher a lie. He would not be controlled by the urges she elicited from him. "You stay because my web has ensnared you." His bare hands grasped her arms, "You stay out of blind obligation."

"No."

"She said that there is someone you love."

"Marius." She muttered, afraid to speak his name in Erik's presence.

"Is he young and handsome?"

"Yes."

"You would rather stay with a deranged and deformed man than indulge in the pleasures of the unflawed flesh of this Marius?"

"He never saw me. I was only the poor misfortunate urchin to him. A friend and no more. I pine for him, but he will never pine for me."

"She mentioned another?"

"Good Lord did she tell you every word I spoke?"

"Yes." Erik's thumbs brushed against the pulse of her wrists, "Go on."

"Montparnasse. We enjoy the intimate comforts of each other. As I said I am no innocent girl."

"You trade those men for me?"

Éponine nodded, her lips parting but no words coming.

"You would trade the warm flesh of willing men for a man as cold and dead and heartless as me?"

She nodded again standing as still as a statue.

As suddenly as the blindfold had covered her eyes, it was torn from her face. Her eyes flew open in a hurry. She couldn't control the scream that spilled from her face.

"Now at last you have seen the face you longed to touch and know. Hidden by a mask no more, to shield you from my flaw. You are like everyone else, you pull away from me. Your scream the song that tears my heart, as I admit you would. But you have damned yourself with words, you shall _never_ leave. Once the Phantom decides your fate it's sealed for eternity!" Erik sang out with an intensity so harsh and yet so passionate."

**A/N: The song she sings with him as well as the previous chapter's song are from **_**West Side Story**_**, "On My Own" from the other chapter is from **_**Les Miserable. **_**Also, the last 'song' he sings in the final paragraph of this chapter is of my own creation. It's to be sung with the music from "Down Once More" when he sings "Why you asked was I bound in chains in this cold and dismal place..."**


	10. Chapter 10

Antoinette walked lightly as she left the dormitory. Most of the girls were asleep or sneaking out like she was. They were sneaking out to find their lovers but she was sneaking out to find someone else's lover. She slipped past the rows of beds and sleeping ballerinas.

She couldn't knowingly rest soundly knowing that Éponine was somewhere in the depths of the Opera House as a prisoner of Erik. She had given her enough information to tell her where to go and who to look for. True, telling Erik everything she had said might have been a mistake – but she thought he needed to know that she had had a life.

"Antoinette?" She jumped at her name, one of the stagehands stood behind her.

"Jules," Taking a curtsey she gave him a smile. "I did not get to see you at all today."

"Hello, my dear." He placed a kiss on her cheek. "Where are you going?"

"Out, I have something I need to do for a friend." Antoinette hugged him close, "She's unable to leave the Populaire currently."

"The woman you mentioned that _he_ has?"

"Yes," She frowned, "Come with me?"

"I have a few things to work on with the set this evening when no one's going to be dancing around on the stage."

"I'll see you tomorrow," She kissed his lips softly before slipping past him.

Jules Lafleur, Antoinette's lover that she keeps completely hidden from everyone who knows her best. She couldn't risk Erik discovering him and becoming jealous that she had found a man who was a whole.

Antoinette asked each person that she saw on the street, questioning of anyone named Marius or Montparnasse. Everyone was produced no answer. No one knew of the men that Éponine had mentioned, until she found a handsome young man who was strolling with a young blond woman.

"I am Marius Pontmercy?" He seemed hesitant, his eyes darting from Cosette and back to the young woman.

"Do you know Éponine?"

" Yes, 'Ponine's not come by the Cafe in awhile." He placed his hand over top Cosette's. "Is she alright?"

Antoinette shrugged looking between him and the woman on his arm, "She's fine. I was told to find you. She was given the opportunity to be taught at the Opera Populaire."

"I'm happy for her. Anything is better than the life she was leading." Marius shook his head, "We should be going." He gave her a wary look as they passed by her. Éponine hadn't lied when she said he wouldn't care.

~o~

Éponine sat on the bench in front of the organ watching Erik play fervently. He had forced her to sit to his right, so she was unable to get relief from his disfigurement. It was true, it was horrifying. The skin was rippled and swollen; his cheek was hollow and his nose only half of a nose. His lower eyelid hung low, revealing the red of the lid. He was hideous just like he had said that he was.

"You are staring," Erik gritted, turning to stare at her as he continued to play.

"I am sorry."

"No you're not," He grabbed her by the chin, his hands bare. She had never seen his hands before.

"They're scarred."

"Observant." His hold tightened, forcing her to stare at him even more. "How does it make you feel to know you will have to see this face every day, for the rest of your life?"

Éponine gulped, adverting her gaze to somewhere over his left ear. "You are not all hideous."

He turned his cheek, "But this makes up for any beauty that I may have!"

"Please," Éponine shook her head trying to loosen his grip on her jaw.

"Please what? I cannot stop this disfigurement; this has been my life long before you and will be long after you."

"Your mask?"

"You removed it, this is your punishment."

"I am sorry." Éponine trembled, reaching out to touch the normal side of his face.

"Pity the beast? I do not want your pity!"

"You are like any other human, Erik."

"Am I?" Erik ran his hand across her cheek. "I have never been mortal not even since birth."

"Tell me." She breathed staring into his emerald eyes.

"What does it matter to you?"

"I just want to know." Éponine shifted on the organ, she let her hand stay on his left cheek, her fingers rubbing in gentle circles.

Erik pulled away from her touch, rising from the bench and swiftly moving across the lair. He vanished out of site back into one of the more secluded corners of his world. "Are you coming Éponine?"

She quickly walked towards his voice, making her way into the darkly lit corner. "Yes?"

Erik was pulling a trunk from its spot, bringing it into the light. "Why I have kept these dark memories defies my better judgement."

Éponine kneeled beside him, turning to look between him and the box. She remained silent as he worked on the lock of the trunk, pushing it open in haste. What memories were inside this box? What had he done in his past that he had to show it rather than tell her?

"Twenty-three years ago there was a baby born here in Paris. The infant's mother had led the life of a prostitute whenever she could get a little money for her work she was ready and willing. Her years of work in this occupation had never produced a living child before, until her son was born. But he was not like any other child; he was a child that only the seed of the devil himself could have bore."

"You?" Éponine asked hesitantly.

Erik nodded as he continued, "They contemplated killing the child to rid the world of the evil he could bring to it. He was as innocent as every other newborn baby, he was desperate for the love of a mother." He paused, digging it to the trunk and pulling out an advertisement from a gypsy carnival that read, _Come and See the Devil Child_. "The baby boy's mother left him in an alleyway wrapped in a sackcloth that potatoes had come in. He was not even worthy to have a soft blanket. A man discovered the infant crying and screaming, his disfigurement flared and hideous. He concocted the idea to sell the child to the Gypsy Carnival that was in Paris. And the age of the Devil Child was born."

"This was you?" She questioned, taking the flier from his shaking hands. "The Devil Child? A Gypsy amusement?"

"They were amused by me," He laughed coldly his fingers subconsciously running of the scars on his hands. "I was nothing but amusement to everyone who came and screamed and jeered, mocking the unfortunate infant, toddler, child, and young boy who was caged like an animal."

"But you are so intelligent and eloquent, if you were caged like a beast how did you learn it all?"

Erik turned to look her in the eyes, "I have been here for ten years. I took a name for myself since no one had ever bothered to do that for me. I chose to become the man that I am today. But my past can never be removed from me."

Éponine reached out and touched his hands, taking them in her hands and running her fingers along the scars. "You are not the Devil's Child anymore."

Erik jerked from her touch, standing abruptly and jerking the Carnival flier from her lap, shoving it into the trunk and slamming it shut. "My story has only made you pity me even more! I do not want your pity!" He growled, grabbing her by the hair on her head. "Why?"

Éponine yelped in pain, standing up hesitantly to alleviate the pain. "Please, Erik. I am sorry."

"If sorry could fix things then I would never have been born."

**A/N: Angsty Erik? I like. Also with Antoinette's lover, I'm playing off her name and his out of Phantom of Manhattan. I like the idea that she never actually married and hid Jules from Erik (which is my idea) and so when Meg was born she used her own maiden name. Happened a lot in entertainment environments, especially when dancers had several lovers. **


	11. Chapter 11

Éponine fought to get his hand out of her hair, pushing and shoving at his arm to loosen his grip. She was used to her father jerking her around but she was not going to let Erik. "Please Erik," She stared at him, reaching her hand out to gently place her hand against his disfigurement. His eyes flickered close at her touch, "If you'd let me I could help forget."

His eyes opened and he let go of her hair, his hand moving along the side of her cheek. Erik could see the fear in her eyes, she was cautious of what his hand was doing and where it would stop. "You fear me."

"Who wouldn't?" She replied, the tips of her fingers tracing the lines of his disfigurement.

Erik narrowed his eyes, wetting his lips with a quick flick of her tongue. "There is no one who doesn't fear me."

"It doesn't have to be this way," Éponine inched closer to him, ignoring the weight of his hand on her shoulder.

"Still pitying the creature?" His hand ran up her neck , staying there to stroke his fingers across the tender skin above her most vital blood vein. "I don't want your pity, Éponine."

Éponine couldn't argue that this wasn't out of pity. How could any person live their life without a kind touch, or gentle pat, a loving kiss. "It's not pity, I just want you to know comfort and compassion."

"Don't." He warned even though he stepped closer to her.

"Your contradict yourself."

"Don't damn yourself." He warned again, staring down at her. She was so bold and so full of herself, she took no warnings and held nothing back. She was a force to be reckoned with.

"I damned my life a very long time ago," Éponine stepped up on her toes, crushing her lips against him.

Erik's mind whirled, launching into a half a dozen questions. He was without his mask, and she still touched him, still kissed him. His lips were free to move against hers, nothing holding them back from indulging in her. His hands grasped her waist, holding her close.

Éponine had expected him to push her away, curse at her, scream at her. Just like last time. But this time she found him desperate for her lips. Her fingers knotted in his hair, brushing her fingers through. His hands ran up the curves of her side, sending shivers through her body.

"No." He hissed pulling away only a breath apart.

"Yes." She pushed her lips back against his. She knew his will was strong, his belief that a man with a disfigurement could never be cared for – or even loved. "Just let go." She said as their lips parted, he pulled her back desperately savouring her with an unbridled ferocity.

Erik pushed every thought of breaking the kiss to go and write the music that was playing in his mind far away. He would not let her get out of this that easily. She'd sealed her fate, and hell had signed his.

He took one step forward, pushing her back with each step. His fingers were tugging at the bodice of her dress, pulling the laces from their homes. Éponine gasped as she felt the swan bed behind her knees. How had they cleared the space so quickly? Was she really that engrossed in his lips?

"No second thoughts," Erik hissed in her ear, as his mouth moved to kiss just above her vein. "No backward glances."

Éponine let him push her back onto the bed, pulling him down with her. "Abandon thought and let the dream descend."

How could she know the music in his soul? "Our bodies entwining, defenceless and silent." Erik bit his lip as she pulled the shirt from his back. His back. He closed his eyes, ready for some piteous question about the scars that were deep and old that covered every spare spot of his body.

But the only thing he felt was her hands tracing along each scar, her lips suckling against the ones on his shoulder. She would be the death of him.

~o~

Antoinette stood there, watching as the Monsieur Pontmercy strolled away. She could not let his arrogance ensnare Éponine in the Phantom's trap for the rest of her living days. She raced after them, "Monsieur!"

"What is it young mademoiselle?" Marius snapped, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Please, if you will not care about her disappearance who will?"

Marius shrugged, "Please if it will keep you from bothering us any longer, go to the ABC Cafe and pester them. Éponine is a big girl; she is capable of taking care of herself. If you truly knew her you would know this. Are you some spy for her father?"

"What?" Antoinette looked confused, "I am no one's spy. I am only concerned for the well being of our mutual friend."

"The streets are not safe, you should return to wherever you have come from." Marius turned, continuing on. There was a thought in the back of his mind that Éponine could genuinely be in danger, but his only concern was spending his time with Cosette while he still had it.

She could not understand why Éponine cared so deeply for such an ungrateful man. What made him so desirable except for his handsomeness? Would he care more if he knew that she was in fact being held prisoner by a madman in the cellars of the Opera House, the very one that he had seen a show a week previous? But who would believe such a story?

Éponine seemed like a strong minded, sensible woman. But was she capable of dealing with the masked murderer that she had fought to control for years. The foolish girl was probably unaware that Erik was a murderer. She was living under the false pretences that his only crime was being hideous and pitiful. But the truth of the matter was that his rage will fill him and he would be unable to control his urge to destroy whatever angered him. The Gypsies could be blamed for instabilities.

But she would be damned if no one would listen to Antoinette.


	12. Chapter 12

Éponine was surprised to find that such an "in control" man was so shy and so timid in bed. He wasn't at all the take-what-he-wants sort of lover that she thought he would be. He had been bold before he was bare before her, but as soon as that barrier was gone he became a completely different man. A man that she was certain she would only find within the comforts of the swan bed.

His arm was causally resting behind his head as he watched her rest. She was as much as a force to be reckoned with beside him at the organ, beneath him in the swan bed. No one had ever been interested in him physically and it warmed him somewhere deep inside that she had been so willing. However, he didn't doubt that for her it was more about indulging physically in anyone, like indulging his musical passion in her. He could have been anyone and so could she have been.

But he wasn't willing to leave right now, she was to warm and too soft to turn away from her.

Éponine's eyes started to open and the first thing she could see was his disfigurement, she tried to contain the sudden horror by closing her eyes again. She hoped that to him she was just reluctant to wake up and not aghast at his face. She stretched out very unashamedly as she scooted closer to him. "I was afraid you were the have-a-go and go type."

Erik shook his head, snaking his arm across her stomach. "I don't know what type I am."

Éponine nodded, realising what he meant. "I understand."

"I have had others, but they were never willing. Money has been the only way to I have found to excuse my face." She reached out to touch his cheek, pushing up on her elbow to kiss him. "But you are confusing me."

"I like keeping people guessing."

"Why did you do this?" He asked seriously, staring into her eyes. "If it is out of pity, I want to know."

"Not pity. I don't think that any person should live their life without a friendly touch, or loving caress." Éponine traced her finger across a scar that was stripped along the curve of his shoulder, "You have only known the coldness of a mask and the bite of a whip."

"You know, I can never let you go now." Erik said, the possessiveness thickening in his voice as rolled over above her. "You're mine now."

Éponine's eyes widened as he kissed her. Never? She would never see her friends again? Ever?

His attempt to enjoy her again was halted by the distant sound of a bell. "Antoinette." Erik hissed, balling the bed sheets tightly in his fists. "Curse the woman."

"Go, see what she wants." Éponine rolled her eyes, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"No, she will not interrupt us." Erik growled, capturing her lips again.

"Erik? Éponine?" Her voice was as distant as the bell.

"Damnination," He continued kissing Éponine, not letting Antoinette deter him. "She'll go away."

"There's not a second gondola?" Éponine asked, pressing her fingers against his lips to keep him from continuing.

"Damn." He nipped her finger, determined to ignore his old friend. "There is, but she will not come."

"Desperate are we?" She teased, pushing him over to swap places.

"Saisir le jour."

"Erik? Éponine?"

Éponine's eyes widened, "Her voice sounds closer."

"I hear water too." He groaned, covering his eyes with his hands. "Why can't she leave us alone?"

"Obligation?" Éponine rolled off of him, scooting across the bed and throwing her feet over the side. "But we must get up, she cannot find us like this."

"Are you ashamed?" Erik questioned sitting directly behind her, his voice was mesmerizing.

Leaning her head back against his shoulder, "Not at all."

"Then come back to bed," He nipped at her ear, teasing her.

Éponine sighed, "Please Erik, she does not need to see us like this." She gestured to the bareness of them.

"Shame." He hissed into her ear, as he leaped out of the bed and gathered their clothing.

"Not shame, propriety." She corrected, pulling her bloomers on and lacing them up. She knew that they had been together, but seeing him back in his clothing and back as himself was jarring. A week ago he had been her kidnapper, her tutor, her master; and now was he her lover?

"You don't want her to know what happened between us. The music and the symphony we composed. Never be ashamed to share the music that's within. Two bodies entwining in a passionate duet."

Éponine sucked in a sharp breath, "Just keep talking like that."

Erik offered her her dress, holding it out like a prize. "I should make you wait to put this on right as she's here."

"Erik? Éponine?"

"Give it." Éponine snapped, lunging for the dress and missing his swiftly moving hands.

"We're here," Erik smiled back at her coldly, his eyes flaring dangerously.

"Give me my dress back _now_."

Erik rolled his eyes, walking away from the bed and into the heart of the lair. He searched around before he found his mask. His face was not sore today, he'd give both Éponine and Antoinette some peace from his disfigurement today.

"What are you doing?" Éponine asked, watching him coating the mask with a thin layer of a clear glop. "You're noting planning on wearing that are you?"

"Yes." He pushed the wet mask onto his face, shifting it until each curve matched with his skin. Erik turned to look at her, "I'll alleviate you from my face."

"Erik," She warned with her hands on her hips. "I do not fear you face."

"You're eyes still stare to long, still look startled when they suddenly have _it_ in their line of view. I am no fool." He placed his free hand on her shoulder, running it down her shoulder and to her waist. "Your lessons will resume as soon as we can rid ourselves of our guest."

"My dress," She challenged him, staying strong before him.

He jerked her around, pulling the dress over her head and beginning on the laces. "Our guest is here."

"Erik!" Antoinette gasped, seeing him with Éponine. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like," He snarled, glancing over his shoulder at his old friend. "What do you want?"

"I came to talk to Éponine," Antoinette watched them. "You are taking advantage of Monsieur."

Éponine rolled her eyes, "Mademoiselle, you are mistaken. I have chosen to stay. I have chosen what I want." She leaned up suddenly, surprising everyone in the lair, and placed a passionate kiss against his lips, despite the pinching of the mask against her lip.

"He is a murder!" She cried out, the only thing she could think of spilled from her lips.

**A/N: Terribly OOC? _ I hope not. I tried. **

**I feel like without his mask he is very weakened, he doesn't have his "comfort blanket" to shield him. In bed he is shyer and easier to get along with, it's a place he admits he is unfamiliar with. He's free and almost romantic with her when he realises that even without his mask that she wants to be with him – whether out of pity or her own need. He hasn't had to pay her to be with her. Once Antoinette interrupts them, the spell that was created in the bedroom is broken no matter how much he still wants it to continue. **

**French Translation; Saisir le jour – Seize the Day (I didn't want to use Carpe Diem)**

**If you're reading this and haven't commented yet, please! I want to hear from all of my readers! **


	13. Chapter 13

Did she hear what she thought she had just heard? Murder? It hit close to home. She knew so many people who had killed, her father and 'Parnasse to name only two of a dozen. But they killed out of necessity. They killed because they were poor and they needed money and sometimes fate just throws murdering in your face as means to survive. But had this been the case for Erik? He had such a violent streak in him that she already feared and this just added a different level to that fear.

"What?" She broke the kiss, turning to stare at Antoinette in shock.

"I-" She stumbled on her words, seeing the anger in Erik's eyes. "I don't-."

Éponine looked up at Erik, biting her lip nervously. "What does she mean?"

"It is a long time past." He growled, his fingers digging into her arm. "It doesn't concern you."

Éponine laughed harshly, "After last it sure as hell concerns me."

His glare turned hostile, "Antoinette you should have not come here tonight." He was fighting every urge in his body that was screaming at him to shove Éponine away and reek havoc in his lair. These were his burdens to bear, his scared past, his dark deeds.

"Tell me," Éponine bit at the nail of her thumb, trying to ignore the anger in his eyes. "Who and why?"

"You do not need to know." He shook her arm to reinforce his words.

"Tell her Erik," Antoinette pushed, taking a timid step closer to them.

"You mademoiselle need to learn your place. Your jealousy has at least met the end of my patience." Antoinette had nothing to say to his words, shying away from his rage. "You have no right to come here and spread my past around, tainting everything that is finally good in my life."

"Erik, murder is nothing new in my li-"

"Silence!" He shouted, pushing her away and fleeing to his organ. "Mademoiselle Giry, I would recommend you to take your leave now."

"If you tell her."

"You have no place to make ultimatums with me!" Erik roared, shoving a stack of sheet music from the organ, "I am the only reason you both are still alive. One wrong move and I will send you to an eternity of living hell."

"Erik, please you're scaring me."

"Silence yourself, you little harlot. You give yourself so willingly, you are no better than any other wanton whore." He turned abruptly to face Antoinette, taking long strides towards her. "You think you can keep secrets from me." Erik smiled smugly, "Jules could meet an untimely end beneath a falling set piece." He smashed his hands together in illustration. "You do not mess with the Phantom of this Opera House."

Éponine gasped at the pure emptiness of his words, the only emotion was unadulterated cruelty and ill intent. He was not the man who had whispered such sweet refrains in her ears as they joined together in a primal duet. This unbridled fury terrified her, he could snap like wild animal. She rose to her feet, fuelled by her foolish boldness. It was the only thing that could explain why she was walking towards a murderer who was in a violent rage.

"Was it out of necessity?"

"What?" Erik growled, jerking towards her. His lips were curled in an expression of hate and irritation.

"Was it out of necessity? The person you murdered."

"No."

Éponine gulped, her eyes flickering towards Antoinette he stood paralyzed as she watched Éponine walk towards Erik.

"Why did you do it?"

"It does not concern you, petit frère."

"Were they hurting you?"

"Yes." He paused with a deranged laugh, "And no."

"There was more than one." Antoinette said stiffly, taking a step closer to the coast.

"Silence! Or there will be one less ballerina to teach today."

"Erik, tell me. I will listen."

"Antoinette, leave us now. Leave!" His fist crashed into candelabra, sending it crashing to the ground and catching fire to his music.

"Your music!" Éponine rushed to the ground, risking her hands to put out the fire that was burning little holes in his compositions. "Erik!"

"Little foolish creature, you think I'm pitiful look at you whimper and cling." He snarled at Éponine, turning his attention back to the blond. "Leave now."

"Let her go."

"No! She is mine. She has damned herself. There is no salvation for her soul now."

Éponine closed her eyes, sitting back on her legs. What was transpiring? What was ruining a perfect morning? Only moments they were basking in each other and now she was cowering in fear of the murderer she had bedded unknowingly. The cold blooded murderer.

Antoinette hurried into her boat, fearful of what would happen if she disobeyed the master. She would have to rally the forces of whomever she could find at the Cafe she was supposedly a friend of. Would they even be willing to save her?

"Erik, please." Éponine begged staying in her spot. "Please, just tell me. Tell me who it is I went to bed with."

"Am I not just another one of your friends you find comfort in? What does my past mean to you?"

"You have no intention to let me go. I do not believe for one second that _that_ will not happen again and I need to know why. My father and my one time lover have killed. But the killed because they are poor or they were attacked. It is common enough in my life that it will not forever deter me from looking at you again."

"I killed my abuser with a noose as a child. He was the ring leader. I tied a noose around his neck and watched him choke to death." Erik replied grimly, his hands tightening in his fist. "There was a woman, a prostitute." He shook his head, "She would not take my money because of my ugliness. I killed her because she insulted me." Éponine gulped, leaning away from him as he loomed over her. "There were too others that I killed for pure enjoyment. To watch them suffer gave me joy."

Éponine felt her heart begin to beat out a panic rhythm. "You..."

"Am a monster?" Erik laughed as he crouched above her. "A coldblooded murderer?"

"Yes."

"And you are mine."

**A/N: Just wrote that baby up in 30 minutes (: Also, that's all for tonight. I need sleep.**


	14. Chapter 14

Éponine leaned as far back as she could, trying to scoot away from him. He was terrifying her. Now that he had returned the mask, the stark expression of the mask and the way it shielded his emotions made him even crueller looking. The more she leaned away the closer he got.

"Why so silent?" Erik sneered reaching out to grab her jaw. "Are we..._afraid_?"

"You're a cold blooded killer." Her eyes were cast down, not wanting to meet his eyes.

"You would have never known until some large-mouthed ballerina came spilling my past." He jerked her head up, "How does that change what we had?"

"You have killed out of pure entertainment." Éponine muttered, afraid to speak any louder.

"I told you from the beginning that I am a monster. But, you wouldn't believe my warnings and my subtle hints. You're too stubborn and too sure of yourself." Erik rose abruptly and made his way towards his organ. "Your lessons begin now."

Éponine stared in disbelief at how quickly his moods changed. The longer she stayed and the more she thought she understood him the more she realised that he was everything he claimed to be. He was a crazed and disfigured monster.

Despite every warning he had given her, every seemingly self loathing thing he had said had been his attempt to keep her an arm's length away. But that was gone now; they had passed arm's length and went straight into within each other's arms.

"Come, come Éponine we don't have all day."

"I do not feel well." Éponine replied numbly as she stood on her feet.

Erik turned to stare at her, no feeling in his eyes or voice. "_Come_ now. It is time for your lessons we have slacked enough."

"If I do not?" She took a step away.

"Five." He hissed, his jaw setting hard and his hands clenching into fists. "You would not want that to happen would you?"

Éponine swallowed hard, taking several slow and unsteady steps towards him. Had he threatened her life or someone else's? "Yes Monsieur."

"The music has a four count start, and then you begin to sing. It requires a lot of air to get the sound out, so I would recommend that you stop taking such trembling shallow breaths. It is a poor way to treat your diaphragm."

He began to play and Éponine studied the lyrics. Why must he write of love and make her sing it? She did not love him. She could never love him. She took a deep breath and began, "I don't know how to love him. What to do how to move him. I've been changed, yes really changed. In these past few days, when I've seen myself. I seem like someone else."

"Good." He crooned as she sang, looking up at her with his emerald eyes. Why had Antoinette ruined this? Éponine still sang for him. But not willingly, out of fear and out of worry. She would never been comfortable in his lair knowing she was being held by a cold blooded murder. Those words she spoke echoed in his mind as she sang. There had been a moment, when they were getting up this morning that he thought that she no longer felt like a hostage but like a guest/

That dream was gone now.

"I don't know how to take this. I don't see why he moves me. He's just a man. And I've had so many men before." Éponine took a sharp breath, the lyrics were her. When had he written this? Was this what he was writing the other day? "In very many ways. He's just one more."

"Sing."

"Should I bring him down? Should I scream and shout? Should I speak of love? Let my feelings out? I never thought I'd come to this. What's it all about?"

"Very good."

Éponine looked down at him, biting her lip before continuing. Why was he making her sing this? Why was it so close to the present truth? "Don't you think it's rather funny? I should be in this position?  
I'm the one, who's always been so calm so cool. No lover's fool. Running every show. He scares me so." Éponine gasped, breathing fast. "I can't sing anymore Erik. Please let me go."

"You will sing." He hissed, replaying the part that she skipped.

" I never thought I'd come to this. What's it all about? Yet, if he said he loved me. I'd be lost. I'd be frightened. I couldn't cope. Just couldn't cope. I'd turn my head. I'd back away. I wouldn't want to now. He scares me so." She sank onto the floor beside the organ, "I want him so. I love him so."

"You let the music take control, épine peu."

"But the words weren't mine. They were yours." She brushed away a fearful tear from her cheek as she stared up at him.

"Were they?"

"How could you write this before any of this happened?"

"My feelings, your voice."Erik spoke in a hushed tone as he rose from the organ, searching for a blank piece of music.

Éponine watched as he played and wrote, murmured lyrics and played again. The pattern repeating over and over again for an unknown amount of time. Erik was beautiful when he worked, he was diligent and studious like a master craftsman at his trade. But his beauty was marred by the knowledge he was apprenticing in the art of murder.

Éponine sat beside the organ, never moving as he worked. She didn't want to upset him or anger him, make him lash out. She had seen a glimpse of his anger when she had removed his mask and again when Antoinette revealed his dark secret. She would have to be more cautious of what she said and what she did.

"I need your voice," He said, motioning for her to sit beside him. She obeyed quietly, sitting and looking over the music.

"A duet?"

"Yes." He finished drawing out a note and then played, "There is a short interlude and then you will come in on this chord."

"I am here to tell you we can never meet again. Simple really, isn't it, a word or two and then.  
A lifetime of not knowing where or how or why or when. You think of me or speak of me and wonder what befell. That someone you once loved so long ago so well."

" Never wonder what I'll feel as living shuffles by. You don't have to ask me and I need not reply  
Every moment of my life from now until I die. I will think or dream of you and fail to understand.  
How a perfect love can be confounded out of hand. Is it written in the stars? Are we paying for some crime? Is that all that we are good for? Just a stretch of mortal time. Or some god's experiment?  
In which we have no say. In which we're given paradise. But only for a day."

"Nothing can be altered, there is nothing to decide. No escape, no change of heart, nor anyplace to hide."

"You are all I'll ever want, but this I am denied. Sometimes in my darkest thoughts, I wish I'd never learned."

Their voices combined together in the one line of entwining. "What it is to be in love and have that love returned."

She took a quavering breath before continuing, "Is it written in the stars? Are we paying for some crime? Is that all that we are good for? Just a stretch of mortal time."

His voice joined in with hers, their song soaring through the air. "For some god's experiment. In which we have no say. In which we're given paradise. But only for a day."

Éponine chest was heaving for the singing and the adrenaline and the fear. How could a monster write such passion? Passion that soared into her very soul and made her want to give him everything she could.

**A/N: First song is "How Do I Love Him" From Jesus Christ Superstar; Second song is "Written in the Stars" from Aida. Most of the songs I have used are songs I've heard Ramin Karimloo sing and want to use since he's my Phantom but "How Do I Love Him" is purely for the sake of the lyrics fitting and being a Webber piece. **


	15. Chapter 15

"The music of today has just began," Erik turned to look at her, his mouth curving up in a smile. "You are improving in such a short period of time. Just think about your voice in a few months."

Éponine wrung her hands, holding them in her lap and looking down at them. "Yes. Just think."

"Will your fear come to an end anytime soon?" His voice was unsure, but smooth and calm never the less.

"No."

"Éponine," Erik spoke softly, that mesmerizing tones teasing at her senses. "I am a murderer, but why does that have to change what we shared."

His music always seemed to calm him down, his rage was almost unnoticeable now. "I did not know you had killed out of pleasure then."

"Then forget it."

Éponine looked up to meet his eyes, "I cannot just forget that your hands are blood stained."

Erik took her hands in his hands, "But these hands gave you pleasure."

"You have killed."

"Does that change what we shared?"

Éponine shook her head slowly, brushing her hair from her face. "It does not change what happened just mere hours ago, but it changes what happens now."

Erik's eyes closed slowly, his breathing was calm and even. "Forget what Antoinette's jealousy revealed. The passion of my music will bring us together again."

"Are you so sure?" Éponine dared to speak, gasping as he suddenly pulled her close. Their faces a breath apart.

"Are _you_ so sure?" Erik's voice was enchanting, his breathing dancing across her face. His emerald eyes bore into her very soul. He took a deep breath before her burst into a song. "Sometimes in a nightmare, you are right there. But you comfort me".

His hand ran up her arm, finding her cheek. Éponine leaned against his touch, despite wanting to flinch away. After being with him she knew he could be gentle and intimate. He had shown her a fragile and vulnerable side.

"Beside me. You guide me. Always when I'm gloomy. You see through me. And you make me smile. Beside me. You find me. I could not have dreamed, that someone in my life was this kind. I could not have guessed that you were my reward." His lips came in contact with her neck, kissing her skin tenderly. Éponine clutched the material of her dress, trying to ignore her desires to touch him and hold him.

"And now I want to change. So move me and improve me. Just stay beside me. Each day. I would see you. Hope to hold you. As the darkness fell. Caress you, undress you."

Erik stared into her very soul as he sang, speaking to her that way that was only him. Only he could sing to her soul and mesmerize her and set her on fire.

"But now something is clear. I understand my purpose. Finally see that there's much more. Although I may seem brave, but deep inside I'm petrified. So understand that this is true. I won't rest til I'm with you. Each day and forever. I endeavour to unbreak your heart. Eternally beside me. You must stay beside me."

Éponine couldn't control herself; she pulled him towards her and kissed him. "This doesn't mean I forget that you are a murderer, but I accept that you are one and that there are reasons for this madness."

"That works for me." Erik pulled her back towards him, shifting on to bench so he could tug her onto his lap.

"Erik." She warned, pushing away from him. "Please stop."

"Too much for you? Ma petite fleur."

Éponine sat back, leaning away from him. "Flower and not a thorn?"

"You alternate." He pressed his lips against hers again, kissing her passionately.

Éponine melted in his kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck. How could he posses her like this? It boggled her. He could not be a mere man when he could control her so fully. Rendering her freewill useless.

"I cannot lose you." Erik breathed, stroking her cheek.

"I understand," She nodded, freeing herself from his arms and getting away from his lap.

"One day." He straightened his shirt as he stood up and followed her.

"Erik, please give me time. There will be no quick resolution to this."

"You are overreacting." Erik retorted, crossing his arms. "I did not want to kill them. The power from one, and the anger from two. Three and four were only out of desperation to gain power again."

"You killed them for fun."

"That was a heated way to put it. I killed them because I could not control my desire to destroy. Once you have your first experience with murder you are desperate to re-enact the adrenaline and the power play again."

"I don't understand."

"Like the first sip of a fine spirit that leaves you parched for more; your first true kiss making you hungry to savour those tender lips again; the first time you are truly intimate with a beautiful and willing woman that leaves you dying to feel her beneath your hands, willing and wanting as you find each other in the thr-"

"Stop, stop. I get the picture." Éponine snapped, covering his mouth with her hand to keep him from finishing. "I was there for the last one."

"The second one as well."

"I am really the only person who has ever wanted to be with you?"

"Yes. Not even my own mother wanted to touch me. My second murder was because of a selective prostitute who was unwilling to sell herself to me for any price because of my face. Other prostitutes were still reluctant both they learned that this was a costumer that was not to be mocked."

Éponine touched his mask gently, coasting her hands over the porcelain material. "Is this why you are so hesitant to let me go? You are afraid of what your life will regress to without me?"

"You are a shining pupil in more than one way." Erik covered her hand with his, closing his eyes. "You are real You are here."

"I am here. I.. I won't leave you."

"Thank you," he whispered, unsure of his own voice. Singing was his only way that he could ever find the words to express without feeling weak. In music you could release your soul without feeling like you were under someone's control because you lost yourself. Éponine made his body tremble with her gentle and kind way of being harsh and bold. She held some possession over him that he could not comprehend. No one rendered him so powerless with one gentle touch.

**A/N: The song is from **_**Bluebird**_**, a WW2 musical that Ramin Karimloo (my Phantom inspiration) sang for the character Ben who sings this song "Beside Me." I don't know if you can find it on YouTube but you can buy it on iTunes. It's amazing. At least the two songs I have. And what do you know, it fits my story so well! I don't even mean for this to happen after I have an idea of what I want to write I just find a song in my playlist that's a musical. **

**Also if you're a fan of Phantom of the Opera on Facebook – I was featured in their fanpics today (the girl everyone keeps saying looks like Sarah Brightman)**


	16. Chapter 16

Three weeks had passed since Éponine was enlightened about her strange tutor, host, and lover. Her vocal training had began to progress in leaps and bounds. Without distractions, other than a few kisses here and there, they had managed to start the creation of a new musical he was going to present to the Opera House – with one exception. An exception he had not revealed to Éponine yet. Her newly discovered talent surprised both of them. She had never thought she had a voice, but with him she had the ability to soar high.

They had finished their dinner for the evening, returning back to the organ for more music. His passion had become her passion. His voice, her voice, their voice was the only sound she wanted to hear. Despite everything she knew and everything she didn't know she trusted him and she hoped he trusted her.

"Is this what you were working on last night?"

Erik nodded, reading over the sheets of music. "I'm not certain about it. It feels very.."

"I am sure there is nothing wrong with it. The music danced in my mind while I slept. It was mysterious and enchanting." Like him.

Erik took a deep breath as he began to play the haunting melody, the long prelude of the song. "The moments of happiness. We had the experience but missed the meaning. And approach to the meaning restores the experience. In a different form, beyond any meaning. We can assign to happiness.." Erik turned to look up at her, smiling as he watched her with her eyes closed and her body moving in tune with the music. "The past experience revived in the meaning. Is not the experience of one life only. But of many generations – not forgetting. Something that is probably ineffable."

Éponine read where her name was scrawled, "Moonlight, turn your face to the moonlight." She reached towards his mask covered cheek, gently dislodging it. "Let your memory lead you. Open up, enter in. If you find there what the meaning of happiness is. Then a new life will begin."

"There, the two characters will talk. There are two pages of instrumental for that section. The song then turns into a duet, with very light ensemble voices in the background."

Éponine nodded her head, sitting the mask down on the table beside the organ. "What do they talk about?"

"The memories they have made in such a short period of time."

"What else," Éponine asked innocently as she sat down beside Erik at the organ. "Do they talk about how they feel?"

"No. That comes later. Here is where he tells her how much she is changing him whether he wants to admit it or not. The dark memories she's replacing with light." He turned the page, never stopping the haunting melodies of the song. "Here begins the duet."

"Moonlight, turn your face to the moonlight. Let your memory lead you. Open up, enter in. If you find there what the meaning of happiness is. Then a new life will begin." The music came to a startling halt. Éponine's eyes flew open as she turned to look at him, there was an edge of fear in her eyes.

"With each day that you are here,"

"Don't."

"You are changing me. Subtly. My thoughts aren't just on me. They're about you. About us."

"Please-"

"Call me a dangerous murderous monster."

"No."

"Because that is what I am. But look at this man! You have reduced me to hapless romantic music."

"Oh." Éponine took a shaky breath, taking his hands in her hands. "You cannot mean this."

"But, I do. You are changing me into a different man. I am a monster, my past will _never_ change."

"You're future is not dictated by your past. This is what I keep telling you!" If her past was a precursor of her future then she would still be bullying Cosette and pining for Marius. But here she was falling for this disfigured man.

"I can't accept that now. My past will always haunt me and loom in my mind. But, you're helping me."

"Find the meaning of happiness?"

"Yes." The word came with his breath as he leaned towards her to capture her lips.

"I think we found the conversation for your opera."

~o~

"Attitude devant, dégagé, assemble, sissonne, sissonne. grand jeté, pique, tendu, port de bras. Fin." The ballet mistress, clapped her hands together as she studied each of her ballerinas, "Very good, very good girls. Take a few moments break return after they've finished working with the sets." She stormed past the line of dancers, snapping at a few of the stagehands who had been watching them and not their work "Are you trying to kill my girls?"

Antoinette chatted briefly with a few of her friends before slipping off stage and into the maze of sets and people backstage. "Jules?"

"Are you on break?" Jules questioned, looking down from scaffolding above her.

"Yes. Are you?"

"Now I am." Jules swung down from the scaffolding, climbing down the ropes. "How is Madame Babineaux?"

"Strict with the stagehands and not so much us." Antoinette wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a kiss. She hadn't seen him for awhile and she was risking being seen this time. She knew well enough that Erik wouldn't be lurking in the shadows watching her, not with his latest obsession. He no longer kept watch over her life, lurking in the shadows of the catwalks above. He never left his lair, not since Éponine had arrived to keep him occupied.

"Tsk, tsk mon beau cygne." Jules brushed his fingers through her blond hair, arching her brow at her unguarded behaviour. "What happens if _he_ sees us?" He waved his fingers in front of her face teasingly making a ghostly sound.

"_He_ is too entwined in his little prostitute urchin turned soprano diva." Her eyes rolled at her words, her frustration obvious. "I was never a gifted singer this is why he never tutored me. If only I had been better."

"You wish he had ensnared you in his trap?"

"No." Antoinette lied, kissing him again. "I wouldn't have met you."

"What do you want?" He asked as he pulled her off of him.

"What do you mean?"

"When you're like this you want a favour out of me."

"Take this letter to the ABC Cafe, give it to whomever will listen." She took his hand and placed a letter that she had concealed in her leotard. "Perhaps I'll give you a favour later for it." She traced her fingers down his chest.

"I knew it." He snatched the sealed letter from her hand. "What is it?"

"I will tell you later. Just go when you have a chance." She kissed him quickly before scurrying off to return to her instructions.

**A/N: Antoinette? She's evil I know. Jealousy's a bitch. (:  
What was that you say? Cats? Oh yes, that is the song from the musical Cats! Hehe, just wait "Close Every Door" Is gonna be in the next chapter! **


	17. Chapter 17

Jules stepped into the ABC Cafe feeling completely uncertain with himself. Why was he doing this for Antoinette? She had hardly even explained why or for what purpose that this letter served. The Cafe was bustling around with men laughing and drinking, studying and talking.

"Pardon me," Jules said as he approached the first person he came to, "Do you know who would be the best person to give a letter too?"

"Depends what the letter's about." Grantaire questioned as he took another long sip of liquor.

Jules hesitated as he looked at the letter in his hands, "I am not sure what it's about."

"Enjolras is your man then," Grantaire gestured towards a table near the back of the Cafe where two men were sitting and talking.

"Thank you," Jules stepped past, hesitantly making his way back to the table. "Bonjour, I have a letter to bring."

"A letter?" Marius sat up straight, looking at the letter in Jules hand, "Is it from Cosette?"

Jules rubbed his brow, "No. It's from my fiancée Antoinette, she wanted me to bring this letter here but she didn't really explain this to me."

"No ideas?" Enjolras asked, taking the letter in his hand.

"I have heard her talk about Éponine?"

"Oh, is she a tall woman with long blond hair? A dancer?" Marius rolled his eyes with a laugh, "She is some insane woman convinced that I should be worried about 'Ponine!"

Enjolras was busy reading the letter, "We should have reason to believe she is in danger."

"What danger could she be in? Montparnasse is her biggest danger."

"Thank you," Enjolras glanced up at Jules, "Marius, Montparnasse is pale in comparison to what this letter says."

"What does it say?"

"She has been taken by a murderer that lives beneath the Opera Populaire." Enjolras looked up at Jules, "What do you know about this?"

"There is a legend around the Opera House, a masked man. That's all I know. Antoinette is hysterical at times about him."

"Thank you," Marius said taking the letter in his hand. "I should've listened."

"Rally the forces, we must gather together to save Éponine."

~o~

Erik stretched out on the swan bed, beckoning Éponine to join him. He was exhausted after a long day of singing and writing, and now all he wanted was to have her beside him. They hadn't spent the night together since they first were together. Éponine was hesitant to crawl into bed with him, the fear of what he had done still hung over her common sense. But she loosened the laces of her dress, letting it slide off to reveal just her chemise and bloomers.

"Don't get any ideas," She said as she climbed into the bed, curling beside him.

"I just want you beside me." Erik turned to wrap his arm around her, pressing a kiss into her hair. He would always starve to have her again, but if this was all he would ever have from her - he would be satisfied.

Éponine smiled at him, resting her arm over his waist. The last time they shared a bed, she had slept impeccably well. This time, though, she was more on guard. He didn't seem like he could go off at any minute and kill her in her sleep. As long as she stayed firm with him and never dropped her guard she would be fine.

"You have become as important as my music, to me." Erik said softly, bending his neck so he could kiss her properly.

"That's saying a lot, without saying a lot?" Éponine asked, hesitant to even bring it up. He was never good at express his emotions which was why they boiled up and he would explode in rage.

"Yes it is." He ran his hand down her back, sending little waves of fire through her. "My music is the only way I know how to express myself. You are my music."

Éponine cupped his face between her hands, pulling him into a desperate kiss. "Say it Erik, say it."

"I can't." He shook his head, brushing the hair from her face. Éponine pulled at his arms, pulling him over her. "Éponine?"

"Forget what I said," She purred, wantonly tossing a leg over his back. "Make music for me."

As their bodies sang to each other, the distant sound of angry men could be heard. The shouting fell on silent ears as Éponine and Erik found each other again.

~o~

Enjolras and Marius and the rest of the ABC Cafe were making their way through the labyrinths of caverns until they reached the lake. Antoinette had conveniently left her boat near the coast for them to take, into Erik's lair. There was not enough room for all of them so they held on to the outside of the gondola as the rowed across the winding lake.

"At all costs save Éponine. If you have to kill the monster."

~o~

"What is that sound?" Éponine asked, hearing the echoes of voices against the rocks the distant sound of water lapping against the stone.

"Antoinette no doubt coming to plague us again." Erik sat up in the bed, staring out towards the grotto.

"But those sound like men's voices."

"Damn this life," Erik cursed as he leapt from the bed and began to dress hurriedly, "We must leave. Antoinette has betrayed us."

"Those voices sound familiar," Éponine was still lying in bed, listening to the voices. "I know them!" She joined Erik in dressing, both exciting and panicked that she recognized the voices of the men of the ABC Cafe. "They're my friends. It's Marius and Enjolras talking."

Erik's fear faded as he turned to look at Éponine. She was smiling, she was happy. Those were her friends that he had stolen her away from. The people she cared about long before he had come into her life. "Antoinette must have told them."

Éponine's smile vanished when she met Erik's sad eyes. "Erik, it's not like that. I don't want to leave with them. I will tell them to go. This is the life I have chosen."

"Éponine?" Marius' voice echoed throughout the cavern.

Erik nodded to her, "I am here Marius!"

The gondola came into view, and it was then that Éponine realised they had not come peacefully. They had their guns.

"Éponine stay back from the monster." Enjolras warned, readying himself with his gun.

"He is not a monster!" Éponine snapped back, stepping in front of Erik, like a shield.

"Don't, you'll get yourself hurt." Erik pushed her aside and took her hand. "Come there is still time to escape through."

"Let go of her!" Marius shouted, a shot ringing out somewhere above them.

"Marius! Hold your gun!" Éponine shouted, from behind Erik. "I am here on my own free will."

The gondola had reached the coast, they were spilling out into the lair. Armed and ready.

"Go with them," Erik pulled her in front of him. "I want you safe."

"Erik no!" She pushed back as he tried to shove her towards them.

"I love you." With those three words he sent her towards them as he vanished deep into his underworld.

"Erik!" Éponine screamed, trying to run after him but held back by Enjolras and Marius.

"Let him go! Break this delusion you have of him."

"No! Let me go." Éponine yelled trying to getting out of their arms. It was no use they were stronger than she was.

As she was forced from her home, she could hear Erik's voice singing throughout the lair. "Close every door to me. Hide all the world from me. Bar all the windows and shut out the light. Do what you want with me. Hate me and laugh at me. And torture my night. If my life were important I would ask will I live or die. But I know the answers lie. Far from this world. Close every door to me."

Éponine covered her face and cried. How could her friends take her away from the man that she loved? The man who cared for her more than anyone had ever cared in her life. What would happen to Erik if she couldn't return to him? She had become his music, his love, the voice in his dark life. Now they had taken away what was good in both of their lives.

**A/N: Next song? Aspects of Love soundtrack. What was that song I threw in today? "Close Every Door"- Joseph & the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat! **


	18. Chapter 18

"Éponine." Erik sighed as he sank onto his bench, running his hand across the keys. What was music without her? He had lived so many years with just his own voice to make music – but now he had a taste of the irreplaceable melodies they created.

"There is no music without you." He looked through his sheets of music, bound together by twine. This was his musical, their musical. But what was it without its star? The musical had been their story, at least inspired by their story.

Erik hesitantly played the organ, it didn't feel the same without her beside him watching him as he played. The notes began to flow from his fingers as a new song was born. "Love changes everything. Hands and faces, earth and sky. Love. Love changes everything. How you live and how you die. Love,  
can make the summer fly. Or a night, seem like a lifetime."

Where was Éponine to wrap her arm around his shoulders and press her cheek against his arm? Why had he let them take her away? Fear. That's what it came down to. He was protecting himself.

"Yes, love. Love changes everything. Now I tremble at your name. Nothing in the world will ever be the same. Love. Love changes everything. Days are longer, words mean more. Love. Love changes everything. Pain is deeper than before."

He had known what emptiness had felt like before she'd ever appeared like a gift from Heaven above. Now he had let her been ripped from his arms. Ripped from his life. Ripped from his heart.

"Love. Will turn your world around. And that world. Will last forever."

Erik broke down, the pain finally setting in. How could he live without her?

~o~

"Have a drink," Marius offered her a mug of wine as Enjolras wrapped a blanket around her shoulders.

"Please, I am not cold."

"You're shaking."

Éponine pushed the blanket off of her shoulders, and shoved the drink across the table. "Because I am upset." Her face was still red and tear stained from the histrionics she had experienced on her way to the Cafe.

"You should drink something. I'm sure you're both hungry and thir-"

"He was not holding me captive Marius. We had breakfast, supper, and dinner together. He was not starving me." Éponine crossed her arms across her chest, glaring between the two men.

"It's common when you've been held hostage to feel a close attachment to your captor."

"I am not ill! I know my own mind." She knew she hadn't known her own mind until the world of beauty crashed down around her when she found out about his past. But now, she knew she loved him.

"Éponine, you have been spellbound by that monster-"

"He's not a monster, Enjolras."

Enjolras laughed, mockingly agreeing with her. "Of course he's not. And I'm the king of France."

"You don't understand him!"

"A woman from the Opera House sent us a letter. She detailed much about this man. He is a murderer and a monster, he was raised by gypsy freaks. I saw his face with my own eyes. A monster hardly covers what he is."

"Please just stop this." Éponine covered her ears. "Please."

Marius knelt beside her, taking her hand in his. "You're going to back to your old self in no time 'Ponine."

"All I want is his voice."

"What depravities did he do to you?"

Éponine shoved Marius' hands from hers, "He is not like that."

"You were half dressed when we arrived."

Éponine stood up, trying to get away from Marius' questioning. "It's none of your concern Marius. If you cared about me at all, your last chance passed a month ago."

"I care about you 'Ponine. I want to know what he did to you."

"You want to know what he did to me?" Éponine screamed at him, "You mean you want to know what you took me away from, kicking and screaming!"

"Éponine please don't shout," Enjolras stepped towards her, trying to calm her.

"He taught me to sing, Erik allowed me to find my voice." Éponine closed her eyes in sweet memories. "We are in love."

"He has enchanted quite well," Enjolras led her back to the chair. "Drink some wine and let yourself unwind some."

"Take me back."

"You're not going back."

~o~

Erik donned his mask and cape, taking his gondola out across the lake. Antoinette would pay for revealing where he lived to those men. She would pay for his loss. She would rue the day that she ever chose to anger the Phantom. Her ice was already thin when she revealed his murders, now her ice was only frigid water that she would freeze to death in.

Erik continued up the levels of the Opera House until he reached his hidden entrance into the backstage. Cloaked in the darkness of his cape he lurked in the shadows. Watching. There was an opening this weekend for the new ballet they had been perfecting. Antoinette and her fellow ballerinas danced from nearly dawn to dusk perfecting their moves, leaps, and turns.

He could see the long blond hair of Antoinette as she finished her leaps and exited stage left. Just as he was about to approach her, he was surprised to see her talking to one of the stage hands. He had always heard her scrutinizing the other girls for their wanton attitudes with the hands. But here she was being rather cosy with the young hand.

"Jules, did you deliver the note?"

"I did. Now what was it all about?"

"Nothing, really." She rose up on her points to press a kiss against his lips. Deterring him effectively from the subject.

"Will I be seeing you tonight?"

Antoinette pushed him in the chest, "You are always so willing to get a hold of me."

"Not often do I have a beautiful dancer in my hands."

"You always have this beautiful dancer in your hands."

Erik's hands balled into fists. He would kill that stagehand and teach Antoinette a lesson for messing with him.

"_Don't Erik. Don't kill in my name."_ He could hear Éponine's voice in his mind. She wouldn't have wanted him to kill in her name. He vanished back into the shadows, his soul saved by his lost angel.

**A/N: The next chapter is going to skip ahead. (: Also the song is "Love Changes Everything" – Aspects of Love. I can't help it that I keep finding songs that fit this story! You can't have a Phantom/Miz crossover without music! **

**Music for me has always been part of my life. I started learning piano when I was 6, playing until I was 13 - but I never really liked it. I've sang in a choir since I was 12 and I played violin from 14-17. I've been involved with musical theatre for a little over a year. I've been in love with West Side Story since I was 7, Phantom since 2003. I saw Phantom on the West End, last year. That musical in particular is seriously in my veins it makes me live.**


	19. Chapter 19

Life had a funny way of turning around to bite you in the bum. As a child Éponine had tormented the little servant girl name Cosette that worked at her family's – then wealthy – Inn. Now she was living at the Rue Plumet under the watchful eyes of Cosette and her father Valjean. Marius had begged for them to care for his delusional friend, explaining her kidnapping and being held hostage by a monstrous man with all of his imagined details and none of hers.

They were afraid that she would escape from her family's Inn and return back to the labyrinth under some spell they were certain he had over her. Éponine had always been hard to handle, but determined made her impossible to control. Keeping her locked in the Plumet was her only hope.

She sat staring out the window, feeling like some damsel in distress in a storybook. Two months had passed since she had last seen Erik. Two long and painful months. Two months of being violently ill and feeling terrible every day.

Though they believed it was just her stress and adjusting back into her old life, she knew better than to believe that. She had remembered how her mother had been when Azelma was born. She'd been sick nearly every morning until the end of her pregnancy.

She was thin, she would show soon enough.

How would Erik react when she found her way back to him, not alone but with a child? His child. If he had never expected a willing woman to show compassion towards him, then it was certain he'd never expected to have a child. That would be, if she could get away from her actual captors.

"You were once, my one companion. You were all that mattered. You were once a friend and lover. Then my world was shattered. Wishing you were somehow here again. Wishing you were somehow near. Sometimes it seems, if I just dream. Somehow you would be here."

The door to her room opened, Cosette stepping in with a tray of food. "How are we today?"

"I am feeling great," Éponine lied, knowing her dark circles under her eyes and empty eyes betrayed her words.

"Marius sends his well wishes," Cosette smiled sweetly at her. Éponine couldn't help but still feel all of the childhood hate towards the pretty petite blond with her lithe figure and shimmering hair. Especially now that she was with Marius.

"How much longer must I stay locked away?"

"Until you have regained some sense." Cosette pushed the door shut with her elbow, sitting the tray of food down on the small table in the corner.

"I hardly even remember the life I once led beneath the Populaire."

Cosette gave her a sceptical look, "I hear you screaming his name at night, Mademoiselle."

Éponine sighed, turning her attention back to the window. "If you love Marius then you can imagine being taken away from him."

"But Marius did not hold me hostage against my will."

"It was against my will at first. I was only there to sneak above to be with Marius," Éponine shook her head. "But after a week I had learned how sing and learned how magical our voice was as one. I was with him twice as a woman and a man should be. Our song was never so strong as then. Cosette, please understand. I gave my very soul to him. I was his and he was mine."

"Do not tell me your story because I have no control over your fate." Cosette, smiled softly placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "My prayers are with you."

"Then I beg you pray that Erik and I are reunited."

Cosette smiled before hurrying back out of the room, the sound of the key echoing behind her.

Éponine stared out the window letting her voice flow freely. The song within her soul, the song she knew was sent from him to her. "There is more to love. So much more than simply making love. That's easy. Gazing into eyes. Pretty eyes, which could be any eyes. That's crazy. Hands are just hands. A face is just a face. They come and go. They're easy to replace. There is more to love.  
So much more than moon-struck escapades. That's nothing."

She could close her eyes and still see him so clearly, like a phantom in her soul.

"There is peace of mind. So much peace. In quiet company. That's something. Everyone but him seems wrong for me. Every time I feel, there has to be. More. If I could hear the music I heard then.  
I'd never let it fade away again..."

~o~

Madness had overtaken Erik completely. He had removed everything from his lair except for his bed and his organ. No busts, no paintings, no silly things he'd collected. Day and night he worked on his musical. The story that was Éponine and himself. Without her, he wrote of the love torn man he had named Tristan. He was broken when his lover Roxane had been ripped from his very hands by a group of wealthy men. Tristan was a disfigured outcast of the city, and Roxane was rich in only beauty and spirit.

It was their musical. It began with hate and then to love and then into pain and brokenness. Without Éponine to be is Roxane the music shifted to being all the inner turmoil of Tristan.

"The day starts, the day ends. Time crawls by. Night steals in, pacing the floor. The moments creep but I can't bear to sleep. Till I hear you sing. And weeks pass, and months pass - seasons fly. Still you don't walk through the door. And in a haze, I count the silent days. Till I hear you sing once more. And sometimes at night time, I dream that you are here. But wake holding nothing but the empty air."

Erik slammed his fists against the keys of the organ. Without her his music felt weak. Without her he felt weak. How had he let her control his very life. No one controlled him. He was the Phantom of this Opera House. He was to be feared.

Yet here he was, reduced to nothing but a pinning and pitiful composer who had lost his inspiration and was plagued by the ghost of her memory.

**A/N: First song sung by Éponine is "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again" – with slightly tweaked lyrics. Second song she sings is "There is More to Love" from Aspects of Love. And Erik's song is "Till I Hear You Sing" from Love Never Dies. Wow I've updated a lot today!  
**

**Guess who's going to Paris in 4 months? (: **


	20. Chapter 20

The Rue Plumet was silent that evening. Both Valjean and Cosette were out on the town, leaving Éponine trapped in her room. Trapped her in her thoughts, in her dreams, in her empty hopes. That was, until there came the sound of shouting outside and the sound of the front door being broken down.

"Take what you can find. The man took what was mine for almost nothing and I deserve every ounce of profit I can make."

It couldn't be.

"I'll take the upper levels." Came the reply of a younger sounding man.

"Montparnasse!" Éponine shouted rushing towards the door and pounding her fists against the wood. "Montparnasse! It's Éponine."

"Éponine?" Came the hesitant reply from outside the door. "Is that.. You?"

"Yes! Please let me out. I have been here for ages."

"Has this been where you've been for all of this time?"

"Yes," Éponine lied, as she heard the key turn in the door. "Montparnasse!"

"Éponine, dear sweet Éponine." He grabbed her in an embrace, holding her tight. "I have been worried about you. I hadn't seen you in so long."

"Yes, I have been held here." She lied, pulling back from the hug. "It is good to see you again." Anything she had ever felt for Montparnasse was no longer there. "Are you here with my father?"

"Yes. And I can tell you now he was not as worried about you as I was." He pressed his lips against her forehead, "Why have they held you here?"

Éponine shrugged her shoulders, "Please I don't want to talk about this. Can we just go?"

"Dear Éponine, anything for you." He took her hand in his as he led her down the stairs of the house, past her father and his men who were gathering anything of wealth from the house. "You must be near wits end after being cooped up here for months."

"Thank you Montparnasse, thank you for rescuing me." Éponine slid her hand from his hand, smiling at him kindly. "But, I have to go. There is someone else whom I love." She took a few careful steps backwards before she took off running down the street. This was her chance to return to Erik.

"Éponine!" 'Parnasse shouted watching as she shot off down the street.

~o~

Éponine snuck back down the alleyway that she had first travelled down on that fateful night. A night she would never forget. The grating was still dislodged, still allowing her the only way that she could reach Erik. She carefully pushed the grate aside and slipped down into the cellar. It was as dark as she remembered, but this time she knew her way through the labyrinth of twists and turns that led to the lake.

"Angel of music, guide and guardian. Grant to me your glory. Angel of music, hide no longer. Secret and strange angel!" Éponine sang out as she searched around the coast for the gondola. Where was it? Had he hidden it after they had taken her? Had they come back for him?

"Erik!" She shouted, hearing no response from the other end of the lake. "Erik!"

With no transport to get her across the lake she resorted to the only other means she knew. She quickly unlaced her dress, shimmying out of it and into her underclothes. She knew how to swim, she used to take Azelma down to the river and swim when they were younger. This lake was hardly as deep as the river was, and she'd never even nearly drowned in the depths of the river.

She leapt into the water feet first, beginning to swim as quickly as she could across the great length of the lake.

~o~

Erik lay in the bed, desperate to get her voice out of his mind. Not only had she been haunting his mind she was haunting his waking world. He could hear her voice as clear as if she were here with him. Beside him.

"Éponine." He cried out, pressing his hands against his head to try to get her out. She was driving him mad.

"Erik!" The voice called again, making him howl. He covered his ears, trying to ignore her phantom voice that called his name. Was this the purgatory he lived in now?

"Leave me demons! Leave this monster and let him die if you wish to torment him to death."

"Erik," Her voice was so close, he turned to follow the sound.

"Éponine." He swung his feet over the side of the bed sitting upright as he saw the solid figure of Éponine.

She smiled as she wrung her hair out, her body sopping wet and dripping water along the coast as she rose from the water.

"What kind of spectral can take such a solid shape? Why does God want to torture this soul? I am tortured enough by my sins and my mind that you do not need to take a form so close to my heart."

"It is me, Éponine."

"Lord on high, what have I done?" He took slow hesitant steps towards her.

"Never knew I could feel like this. Like I've never seen the sky before. Want to vanish inside your kiss."

"Stop. Please." Erik pleaded, reaching out to touch her. She was real beneath his fingers. She was there.

"Every day I love you, more and more. Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing. Telling me to give you everything. Seasons may change. Winter to spring. But I'll love you until my dying day."

"Come what may," Erik stroked her cheek, his eyes closed as he sang. This was a song he had started to compose one night while she was asleep. Yet she knew it. "Come what may."

"I will love you, until my dying day," Éponine's voice combined with his, "Suddenly the world seems sonce a perfect place. Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace. Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste. It all revolves around you."

"And there's no mountain too high, no river to wide." Éponine covered his hand with hers.

"Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side. Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide. But I love you ."

She smiled up at him, pressing her own hand against his disfigured cheek. "I love you."

"Until the end of time." He leaned down, pressing a kiss against her lips and savouring that she was there. She was really there.


	21. Chapter 21

"I thought you were gone from me forever," Erik cupped her cheek, staring down at her with such a loving expression. "I thought I would be reduced to the dreams of you. Those empty dreams that left me screaming for you."

"But I am here now." Éponine stroked her fingers through his hair. "Erik I have missed you so much." He pressed his lips against hers again, kissing her slow and deep. She pulled back, "There is something I need to tell you."

"What is it?" Erik's smile faded, "You are staying here aren't you? You're not leavi-"

"No!" Éponine gasped laughing at his guess. "Not even. I will stay here forever."

"You have changed me Éponine. You have kept me from killing in my rage and frustration. Your voice in my mind being my conscious."

"I am proud of you," Éponine gave him a proud smile, stroking her thumb across his cheek. Was he going to interrupt her every time she started to tell him the news?

"You are not a dream are you?"

"No." Éponine shook her head, "I need to tell you this so please listen." She pulled back and met his eyes.

"You're soaking wet, Éponine."

"Well I did just swim across that frigid lake. It's not at all warm like the river is in summertime." Éponine wrapped her arms around her, the chill had finally set in. She was never going to get to tell Erik.

"Your dresses are still here," Erik took her hand and led her to where he had stowed her dress in a trunk. He couldn't complain that her water soaked underclothes let him enjoy every inch of her body that it clung to. But he ignored his interests and searched for her dress and new chemise and bloomers for her.

"No corset." Éponine said quietly, as he pulled all of the clothes out for her.

"Why not?"

"Because I need to tell you this," Taking a deep breath she slowly started, "I am.." She placed her hand on her stomach, "with child."

"With child?" Erik echoed, his eyes widening in surprise. "With _my_ child?"

"With your child." She nodded, feeling her heart skip a beat when he didn't smile or show any sign of happiness. "Oh, Erik.. You're unhappy?"

"What if the child is born like this?" Erik gestured to his face, staring down at her still flat stomach. "What will happen then?"

"I will love the baby as I love you. Erik, I have taken you as the man that you are so why would you think that I would not want your child?"

"I am no father. I am hardly a proper lover to you. How can be a father?"

"How can I be a singer?" Éponine took his hand in her hand, placing it against her stomach. "We will raise this child together."

"Marry me."

"What?"

"Let the child be born with in wedlock. No child of mine will be called a bastard like its father."

Éponine hesitated, "Yes."

"Then you must be some phantom here to haunt me with what I could have."

"Stop being so melodramatic," Éponine joked pulling him into another kiss, possessive and passionate.

~o~

"This is our musical. You're still working on it?"

"I haven't stopped, day in and day out I've been working on their love story. They're name's are Roxane and Tristan."

"You've composed so many new songs," She thumbed through a stack of pieces. "These are all Tristan's songs."

"I did not have your voice."

"I have a song, but I have no music except for what is in my mind." Éponine ran her hand over the keys of the organ, the ivory beneath her fingers making her smile.

"Sing for me then," Erik kissed the back of her neck as he stood behind her. "Sing the notes you hear in your mind and I will listen to them."

Éponine took a deep breath, "Anything but lonely. Anything but empty rooms. There's so much in life to share. What's the sense when no one else is there? Anything but lonely. Anything but only me.  
Quiet years in too much space. That's the thing that's hard to face, and. You have a right to go, but you should also know. That I won't be alone for long. Long days with nothing said. Are not what lie ahead. I'm sorry, but I'm not that strong."

Erik's hands stayed at her hips, his head resting on her shoulder, leaning his head against her cheek. Her voice again filled his lair, his mind, his heart, his soul. Her song was following in the direction he had wanted to take their characters.

"Anything but lonely. Anything but passing time. Lonely's what I'll never be. While there's still some life in me and. I'm still young, don't forget. It isn't over yet. So many hearts for me to thrill. If you're not here to say. How good I look each day. I'll have to find someone who will. Anything but lonely. Anything but empty rooms. There's so much in life to share. What's the sense when no one else is  
there?"

Erik stepped away from her and sat down at the organ, his fingers began to move and flow repeating the melodies that she had sang in her song. "Your song fits in beautifully with what I wanted to befall Roxanne."

"What do you want to befall Roxanne?" Éponine sat down beside him at the organ, taking a look through the musical score.

"I want her to be taken from Tristan and she has to return to the life on a street. There's a song that's not put to paper yet but it's when they're reunited. It's a tango."

"Who in the company will be playing our two lovers?"

Erik turned and gave her a wide smile, "You."

"I am not an actress, now am I in the company. Please be realistic." Éponine laughed shaking her head.

"They will give you the part if they want me to cooperate."

"Who will I be my Tristan then?"

"Moi."

"You are certain they will cave to your whims?"

"They will have no choice but to cave to my desires." Erik leaned towards her and captured her lips. "Picture you and I on stage, being these characters."

"I am." Éponine's eyes rose, "I am terrified."

"There is a masquerade ball in a week's time. You've returned to me at the perfect time for the musical to be unveiled."

~o~

On the other end of the lake, Antoinette had come to visit Erik but she was shocked to find an abandoned dress on the coast of the lake.

"Éponine." She hissed as she picked up the dress. From where she stood she could hear the sound of the organ playing and voices laughing.


	22. Chapter 22

"You've written so much while I've been gone."

"I did not have you to distract me." Erik took her hand in his hand, "But you were still my inspiration."

"These are all so sad." Éponine read the lyrics for the one in her hand, "How could I have loved her and made her love me to? Erik, please tell me you do not think that you forced me into loving you."

"It crossed my mind." Erik shrugged, snatching the music from her hands. "I called the song song _If I Can't Love Her_. I don't think it will really work for Tristan, but I wrote it about you."

"You need happier songs now."

Erik ignored her words as he began to play the music, letting the melodies drift around the room and swell around them. "And in my twisted face, there's not the slightest trace of anything that even hints of kindness. And from my tortured shape; no comfort, no escape. I see, but deep within is utter blindness. Hopeless. As my dream dies, as the time flies. Love a lost illusion. Helpless."

Éponine shook her head, in two months how could he have lost all faith that she'd return to him?

"Unforgiven. Cold and driven. To this sad conclusion. No beauty could move me, no goodness improve me. No power on earth, if I can't love her. No passion could reach me, no lesson could teach me. How I could have love her and made her love me too."

"You didn't make me love you!"

"If I can't love her, then who? Long ago I should have seen. All the things I could have been. Careless and unthinking, I moved onward. No pain could be deeper, no life could be cheaper. No point anymore, if I can't love her. No spirit could win me. No hope left within me. Hope I could have loved her and that she'd set me free. But it's not to be. If I can't love her, let the world be done with me."

Éponine pushed his hands from the keys, taking his scared hands into hers. "There's something sweet and almost kind. But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined. And now he's dear. And so I'm sure. I wonder why I didn't see it there before."

"Éponine, you have soothed this monster and you have tamed him." He brought her hands to his lips, placing delicate kisses on each knuckle.

"I never forgot what you said to me, but why did you let them take me?"

Erik closed his eyes in irritation; he pushed himself up from the set, making his way across the lair with heavy steps. "Shame, humiliation, fear and cowardice. Does that answer your question?"

"You were afraid of what they would do to you?"

"Éponine, I have not been in the company of men since I was a display for the world to see. I do not trust them any more than I trust myself. Women are gentle and kind, they have the instinct to be more caring than a cold hearted man."

"You feared what would happen?" Éponine turned on the bench, watching him as he moved around the nearly empty lair.

"There were so many of them." Erik hated himself for letting them have her back without so much as a fight. "I knew they would not hurt you. They didn't did they?"

"The only way they wounded me was by keeping me from you."

"Our time may be short then."

"What? Why?"

"They know where I am now. They know this place, no thanks to Antoinette. I have no doubts that they will return to steal you from me again."

"I won't let them take me away again."

"This is no life for you down here. You are meant to live in the light of day."

"Do you think that you are not capable of being loved?"Éponine snapped, covering her face in frustration.

"You know my crimes and you know the sin of this abomination of creation." Erik looked at himself in one of the broken mirrors, his face reflected across the shattered pieces and staring back at him. "I do not see how someone like you can give up your life to be a comfort to me."

"If you feel this way then why on earth did you say that you loved me? Why ask me to be your wife?"

"Because I do love you."

Éponine walked towards him, looking in the mirror over his shoulder. "I would love you the same even if you were handsome."

"You would love a monster equal to someone like your precious Marius?"

"I don't love him!" Éponine corrected, the tone in her voice was cold and bitter. "He does not love me, he does not care for me anymore than a friend."

"Éponine, I want you as my wife, I want you as the mother of my child." Erik to a shaky gulp. His mind was hardly able to comprehend having a child be his. What if the baby was born like him? What if she regretted marrying him?

"Erik please stop doubting yourself." Éponine placed a soft hand on his shoulder, "I want us to be happy. We can't be happy if you obsess about what you are and what you've done."

"I obsess about you and your voice." Erik turned grasping her arms possessively, "My love for you verges into obsession, Éponine. That doesn't scare you at all?"

"No, Erik. No." She stared him in the eyes, trying to make her point come across loud and clear. "I've lived as alone as you have in my own way. I am through with that life."

A small smile crossed his lips as he looked at the woman in his hands. How could anyone who had come to him in complete chance suddenly look like the bright future he had always longed for?

~o~

"I do not know what happened, Marius. She was here when we left and now.." Cosette's lip trembled. "Marius, we were robbed."

"The neighbour's believe that it was ___Thénardier's Gang." Valjean interrupted, giving Cosette's shoulder a gentle squeeze, "They took everything that was in our house that would be of any worth."_

_"__Including _Éponine." Marius shook his head, "It was her father's gang at least, meaning she's still in safe hands and not the hands of a deranged man." He reached out to embrace Cosette, "I will help with anything you need replaced, Monsieur Valjean."

"You are a good man, Marius."

Montparnasse knew it was foolish to return to the scene of a crime he had helped commit. But he had to know who exactly had been keeping Éponine hostage. He was surprised to see that Marius Pontmercy was at the house. He knew had been close friends with Éponine, he knew that she had imagined him so many times when they had been together.

"Pardon my intrusion."

"Who goes there?" Valjean barked, looking around the darkness of the street.

Montparnasse halted, he couldn't let himself be seen. The idea had been easier said in his mind than actually done. He would be caught and thrown into prison if he admitted he had helped with the robbery. He slipped back down the alleyway and out of sight. If he wanted to know why they had had Éponine, he'd have to find out himself.


	23. Chapter 23

Erik lay beside Éponine, watching her sleep soundly in his arms. She was beautiful like an angel as she slept. Her eyes fluttered and her lips twitched every so often in the stir of her dream. Her dark hair fell gracefully over her pale skin, her cheek bones just revealed beneath the rosy apples of her cheeks. Was it really true that she was his? He couldn't fathom that anyone as beautiful as she was would want a life condemned with him in the dungeon of a place that he called home.

He didn't want to ever let her go. She was the light and she was the air that filled his dark suffocating life. She was his prize, for whatever he had done slightly good in his life, that he didn't think he deserved. Éponine was the gift for someone who was handsome and wealthy and morally pure. Sure, she had lived the life of an urchin and a prostitute selling herself for profit but she didn't deserve a life bound to a monster.

Yet, he had asked her to marry him and she readily accepted. Had that been fear? Was she afraid that he would force her whether or not she had agreed? But she had returned to him willingly. Escaped whatever snare she had to to return. Éponine had returned willingly and with child. With his child. Not only was he binding her to a life beneath the opera house but he was condemning their child. If he let her and the child go, as painful as it would be, the infant would be raised in the light of the sun. Could he really damn this woman and their child to the dark life he led?

Yes. That was the answer. He would rather keep her with him to keep him from the endless loneliness. He knew what it felt like to have her gone. He wouldn't be able to live if she was gone again.

His arms tightened around her, burying his face in her soft hair. She was his. He had told her that from the beginning. His obsession with music and her ability to be taught and to progress was what first made him want her to stay. Then, the obsession with her voice and with her made it impossible to imagine his home without her. But the final tie was having her so willingly go to bed with him. He couldn't let her go then. Even if he did let her go out of his primal fear of abuse, he would never be able to relinquish the control she held on his heart and on his soul. For all intensive purposes they were one voice, one soul, one heart.

"Mon cœur, mon âme, ma voix, mon ange." He whispered against her hair, as she shifted in his arms. "Shhh," He whispered as she started to speak, stifling her words with a kiss against her lips. Éponine curled closer to him, tucking her head under his chin tighter. "Sleep my angel."

~o~

Antoinette appeared in the morning as they awoke, almost as if by cue. It was taking everything in her to control an onslaught of words from spilling from her mouth. Every little pinned up curse, name, and word she could throw at Éponine were just begging to come out.

Éponine was stealing every ounce of the attention she had the right to have from Erik. Even in her absence his mind was always on her. Had she been the one to save him from the Gypsies? Had she been the one to hold him when he cried when they were younger? Had she been there when the nightmares tortured Erik? Had she cared for him for ten _long_ years without even a thank you?

No. That had been Antoinette. Yet, here she was getting nothing she was entitled to.

"I brought your breakfast, Erik." Antoinette shouted at the swan bed, standing near the coast. "I also brought enough for _her_."

Erik jerked at the sudden invasion to his quiet rest, sitting up with a jolt. "Keep your voice low," He glanced down at Éponine who was starting to wake up. "She was asleep."

"I don't care if she was asleep or not." She crossed her arms across her chest, walking towards them. "I see she came slinking back to you."

"No thanks to you." Erik replied coldly, as he climbed out of the bed. "Do not try my patience Antoinette."

"You think they won't come back for her?"

Éponine stayed stretched out in the bed, covering her eyes with her arm. She did not want to have to have this fight with Antoinette this early in the morning. Her stomach was already in knots as it always was in the morning and she was just causing her more distress.

"Antoinette, we do not you dictating how we live our life."

"Erik, all I ask is that you rethink keeping her here. She is not right for you. You deserve someone who appreciates the arts like you do. Someone who has been there for you."

"In essence you?" Erik laughed harshly at his own statement. "Antoinette you are like a sister to me. You have cared for me like a mother. Not a lover."

"You do not appreciate the hell that I have gone through to keep you safe!" Antoinette shouted at him. He was driving her to the brink of insanity.

"I think it's time for you to go."

"Why? So you can return to bed with your little whore?"

"You take that back Antoinette Giry. I would think that you would understand best not to anger me."

Éponine sat up in the bed rather abruptly, clutching her stomach. She leaned over the bed as quickly as she could as her stomach won the battle with her mind.

"Éponine are you alright?" Erik questioned as he glanced over his shoulder at her.

"It's normal," Éponine responded quietly before gagging again.

"What's wrong with her?" Antoinette inquired, smirking at the sick girl. "Some illness she acquired on the streets?"

"Silence!" Erik roared, his hands fisting together.

"A girl like her is not good for someone like you Erik. You are talented and you are easily angered."

"And you are trying my last nerve." Erik gritted, as he turned to make his way back to Éponine. "Antoinette please leave." He gently held Éponine's hair as her stomach betrayed her again. "This is normal?"

"Yes. Every morning."

Antoinette's eyes widened as she listened. The urchin couldn't be pregnant, not with Erik's child. Not with a baby that would make their life complete and make her obsolete from his life. Would they leave when the baby was born? Would he give Antoinette like a poorly composed piece of music.

She wheeled around to leave, "Antoinette."

"Yes?"

"Tell Monsieur Lefevre that I will be in attendance of the masquerade. Accompanied by my fiancée." Erik's voice was cool and suave, every ounce of malice seething from his words. He knew exactly how to torture Antoinette without even needing to kill.


	24. Chapter 24

"This is all normal?" Erik asked as he cleaned the floor with a cloth where she had been sick.

Éponine nodded slowly, clutching her stomach as it churned. "My mother was sick nearly every day before Azelma was born."

"You have a sister?" Erik stroked her head gently before moving to dispose of the rag. "You've never mentioned her."

"We aren't very close. She's nearly six years younger than I am."

"I know so little about the life you led outside of my world."

Éponine laughed softly, laying back on the bed in exhaustion. "It's nothing exciting. I lived, I worked, I was yelled at, I felt alone, I was forced to make money."

Erik sat down on the edge of the bed, placing his hand on her stomach. It was the first time he had actually, willingly, acknowledged her stomach in some capacity. "But it is exciting because you were out there living a normal life."

"Are you worried about the baby leading a normal life?"

"I'm worried about you both." Erik stroked his fingers across her stomach, if it wasn't just his imagination she had the slightest curve already that he hadn't remembered being there two months ago. "Fatherhood was never planned."

Éponine closed her eyes, trying to ignore him. He talked himself in circles. "You mentioned a masquerade?"

Erik glanced at her, smirking inwardly at her change of subject. "Yes, the opera house is holding a masked ball for all of its patrons and employees. I have written a few operas and cantatas for them previously and at the ball I intend to reveal my latest masterpiece and its stars."

"Who will be playing Tristan and Roxane? Not that I've seen a show and know the actors, but.."

"We will be Tristan and Roxane."

"What?" Éponine gasped sitting up far too quickly for her stomach.

"You say you've never seen a show here?" Erik returned the favour of subject changing. "We are going to change that. I have a box here, that's mine and mine alone. You and I will see the ballet tonight."

"A ballet?" Éponine grinned brightly. "You're actually going to take me to see one of the shows here?"

"Of course I am."

~o~

"You look gorgeous," Erik smiled, watching Éponine admiring herself in the mirror. He envied how she could look in the mirror without feeling empty.

Éponine turned to smile back at him, "This is a gorgeous dress." She smoothed her hands over the green satin, "Where do you get these dresses."

Erik stared at the ground as he spoke, "Around."

"They're stolen aren't they?"

"If it were yes, would you be angry?"

Éponine shook her head. She wasn't going to ask if the people he'd stolen from were living or not. Honestly she did not want to know.

"Then yes, they're stolen." Erik cringed a little bit, before he turned back to his vanity to apply his mask. "Don't ask why I'm wearing it. I do not go out without it on."

"I wasn't going to ask," Éponine finished pinning her hair up before taking one final look at herself in the mirror.

"Feel all better after lying around in bed all day?" He offered his arm to her as she stood beside him.

"Much."

Taking his arm the set off towards the boat, taking the gondola to the opposite coast, winding through the corridors until they reached the grand staircase.

"To think, I only needed to have gone up this that night."

"Aren't you glad you didn't?"

Éponine nodded, her dimples popping as she smiled, "I am so glad I didn't find my way up."

"Come, we should make it up to Box Five, before too many people begin to file in. Don't want to turn too many heads with a beautiful woman and a masked man."

~o~

Intermission had come and Éponine was enthralled beyond belief. She couldn't believe how beautiful and graceful the dancers were and how much training they must've gone through to be able to dance like that on stage.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Erik asked, placing his hand on her back.

"Yes!" Éponine turned to smile at him, she leaned in to kiss him. "Thank you, Erik."

"I will do anything for you, Éponine." He cupped her cheek and kissed her again, pulling her up from her seat beside him and tugging her towards his lap.

"I think I could get used to performing on that stage."

"Everyone's eyes on you."

"On us."

"The crowd would love you. Blonds seem to overflow the stage anymore, we need a girl with auburn locks to brighten up the stage."

Outside the curtain of Box Five lurked Antoinette listening in on Erik and Éponine. Half way through one of her dances she noticed the reflective glow of white up in Box Five. He was with her. She was determined to keep them from being together. She would not let Éponine get Erik after only months of knowing him when she'd devoted half of her life to it.

"The masquerade will reveal everything." Erik said as he kissed along her neck, enjoying his intermission from the show.

The masquerade. That would be Antoinette's chance to destroy Éponine and Erik. It was a masquerade to thank both employees and patrons for their successful season. Éponine's friends were patrons. Antoinette knew that she had to make certain that they would be there. Any plans that the "happy couple" had in store would be interrupted to by her.

Antoinette slipped back down the stairwell, unable to stomach any more of Erik and Éponine's laughs and sweet words. They made her sick. She had known Erik to be spiteful, hateful, and cruel and now some girl had reduced him to a whipped, romantic, sap. She would rue the day she ever came to the Opera Populaire.

"I'm the only one he'll need."

**A/N: Last line is a lyric from "Mother Did You Watch" from Love Never Dies. So much stuff is being strung! What will happen? Wait around to see (:**


	25. Chapter 25

Antoinette slipped out of the dormitories after the evening performance, she knew that the Ballet Mistress would be disappointed in her for going out to have a few drinks when there was two performances the following day. However she was not in any mood to obey anyone.

The liquor was bitter and obviously cut with something else, but it soothed her mind and numbed her pain. She was one of only four women in the whole establishment and she wished that she had begged Jules to go with her, he would at least keep the men's wagging tongues at bay.

"Come to cast your cares aside?"

Antoinette looked up at the man who had sat down at her table with her. "I'd say I've come to do the same thing that every other person is here to do."

"Such a pretty woman as you shouldn't have many worries."

She rolled her eyes, taking a long sip of her drink. "You would be surprised."

He was a very handsome man, he was tall and thin, well dressed, dark brown hair and green eyes. He had an air of elegance about him. "Try me."

"I am in love with a man who is in love with a poor match for him."

The gentleman laughed, "I would say you should join the pity party. I am in just the same situation. I have been in love with one woman since we were children together, but she was always pining after some rich out of her league man."

"I'm just tired of being second best! Even before she arrived I was second best to the thought of a better woman."

"Try being in the throes of passion and hearing another man's name on your lover's lips." He took a long gulp of his ale, sitting the mug back down on the table heavily.

Antoinette shrugged her shoulders, "I have a lover too."

"Oh the webs we all spin."

"I want her out of my life!" She snarled, feeling her cheeks grow hotter, "I'm sorry."

"Go ahead, a little explosion is nothing to me."

"I shouldn't even be here drinking. I have another show tomorrow and getting drunk does me no good to shine for him."

"I should've guessed that you were a dancer."

Antoinette nodded, getting up from the table. "I really must go."

"Are you going to be at that masquerade of Friday evening?"

She paused before starting to walk away again, "Look for the a mask with a heart and an ace, in a yellow and black dress."

He watched her leave, smiling to himself that he might have found a new way to pass the time.

"Montparnasse, the old toady needs yer." Madame Thénardier said, tapping him on the shoulder.

~o~

"But I must go my love." Éponine reached out to touch Erik's face, only to have him turn away. "Please, you must understand that is for the better."

"You are my life, you are my air, you are everything to me."

Éponine brushed past him, "That is why we cannot be."

"Please, my love. You must understand that I would not live if you left me."

"This is where you sing _'If I Can't Love Her'_, right?" Éponine read through the script, "Then I exit the stage and return after you sol-" She broke off, she didn't know how to say that word.

"Soliloquy." Erik corrected, as he read over the script, "You will then come back on to sing _'I Don't Know How to Love Him'._"

"I scared myself." Éponine admitted as she sat the script down and leaned against one of the jutting rocks, "I really felt like I was Roxane."

"I was the Tristan to your Roxane completely." Erik leaned down to kiss her forehead before moving his lips down to kiss her mouth tenderly. "But their tragedy is not the same as ours."

"I didn't leave you willingly."

"Ah, but Roxane leaves him because she is being forced by a group of her father's men. They are not interested in her loving a poor man despite her own lack of wealth. She is forced back into a life of prostitution."

"That's when Tristan reappears as one of her customers?"

"Exactly, that's where the tango comes in."

Éponine looked up at him, "How do you tango?"

"Let me teach you," He took a hold of her hands and pulled her up to her feet. "Hands here and hands here. Closer, ah, perfect." Éponine smiled gently at him as he began to teach her. Despite having two left feet she seemed quite capable of learning.

"You are so teachable," Erik laughed as she stumbled on his feet. "With time you shall learn. That is what practice is for."

"I'd like to practice everything with you." Éponine grinned cheekily at him as he twisted her and dipped her. "Will Tristan be singing while they dance?"

"Yes and her dress shall be seductive. You will make every man fall in love with you. Then you will twist all of their hearts because you are mine."

"What about your cheek?"

"I am going to use a similar method as my mask, only with the use of skin toned plaster that will make my face seem even."

Éponine chuckled as he dipped her again, kissing her as he did so. "I still will always prefer you like this though."

"Would you like to see your dress for the ball?"

"Yes." Éponine breathed excitedly, bubbling with excitement with all of the dotting upon she was getting. She had had everything in the beginning of her life and had been reduced to little more than a servant and a woman of the street. Now she was seeing shows, staring in a show, having fancy dresses and being in love.

"Red and black for both of our outfits." Erik revealed the dress. "I had hopes you'd return."

"You're wearing your regular mask?"

"No, I'm wearing a skull mask and you are going to wear a red feather mask that covers the upper portion of your face."

"Only a week away." Éponine wrapped her arms around Erik.

**Oh my, what will happen now? Did I throw you off with both sections a little bit?**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: Skipped a head a little to the morning before the Masquerade. Most of the plotting happened a week ago. **

The Opera House was in a whirlwind of sights and sounds. The orchestra was practicing in the main entry hall of the Populaire as the stagehands worked on their new job of decorating the great hall. Transforming the once simply gold gilded room into a fantasy world of candles, feathers, glimmering mirrors and sparkles that made the room a magical place.

The halls along the dormitories were full of girls getting prepared for the Masquerade, they were busily rushing back and forth giggling and squealing as they were donning their dresses and work on each other's hair. For most of them this was their chance to cosy up with the patrons in hopes that they would get a better role in the upcoming season. Or even better, they had a chance to create a lasting connection to a rich man and perhaps be married.

Beneath the Opera House was calm and serene. Erik and Éponine had slept in late, had a slow breakfast, and perfected the manuscript, before they began getting dressed.

Éponine's dress fit her perfectly; the red and black silk flowed over the hoop skirt beneath, the bodice fit snugly against her ribs pushing her bosom up in a very seductive way that was framed by the low neckline. Erik helped her lace up the corset, careful that it wasn't too tight across her stomach. Her feathered mask jutted up to high levels giving the appearance that she was taller than she was.

Erik's mask was a terrifying sight to be seen. It had sharp corners along his cheek bones, the eye hole sank deep in, and the nose was nothing but a sharp bone. It was the mask of a skeleton. It covered nearly all of his face, except for his mouth. The blood red tail coat and breeches fit snugly to his torso and his legs. It highlighted how lean and subtly muscular that he was.

"They won't be able to say no to you, mon bel ange." Erik wrapped his arms around her waist, letting his lips skim against the curve of her neck.

"We know there will be one against us."

"Forget about Antoinette," Erik purred against her ear, nipping the lobe.

Éponine chuckled, "I just go dressed Erik." She nudged him the ribs playfully, "Be good."

"We have a few hours until the masquerade, I plan on making a grand and fashionably late appearance."

~o~

Jules had been called away from the masquerade to work on some element of the evening that was not exactly what Monsieur Lefarve had expected, leaving Antoinette alone at the ball to mill around with her friends and meet the faces that paid for their shows.

"Ah, Mademoiselle Giry and Mademoiselle Lucien come and meet Monsieur Pierre Montparnasse." The Ballet Mistress said, taking a hold of both of the girl's arms. "Monsieur Montparnasse these are Mademoiselles Giry and Lucien two of our most promising young ballerinas."

"I must say your dress is exactly what I imagined." Montparnasse bowed grandly towards Antoinette as she curtseyed with a laugh.

That name. Where had she heard it before? "It's a pleasure to meet you again."

"You know each other?" Lousia asked as she curtsied to the masked man.

"I met him the other evening, after a performance." She didn't need to say that they she had gone out to get drunk. Especially in front of the Mistress.

"A face of spades and hearts," He commented as he admired her outfit.

Antoinette smiled at him, "I see you chose a yellow cravat. Inspired?"

"Perhaps," Montparnasse held his hand out, "Would you like to dance?"

Antoinette took his hand, "I would."

Erik had wanted to dance with Éponine, but not be seen just yet. As the music swelled up the stairs of the Opera House they danced on one of the upper landings, away from all of the people and the frivolities.

"Our big night." Éponine smiled as they twirled around to the music. She had never been to anything so fancy and so exciting before in her life. Everyone who was anyone was at this ball.

"Not only will we be announcing our new musical, the opera house's new star, but we will be announcing our engagement."

"Me, engaged?" Éponine laughed, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. "It's hard to believe."

"Believe it. I haven't given you the ring yet."

"There's a ring?"

Erik's smile spread under the skull mask, "It's a beautiful antique that I actually purchased and did not steal."

The music began to change tunes, the rhythm becoming fast paced. "I think it's time to unveil ourselves." Erik said before pressing a kiss to her lips.

With a wave of his hand the music came to a sudden stop; everyone who was dancing turned their head to see the couple that was walking down the stairwell.

"What's going on?" Montparnasse asked looking down at Antoinette.

"Ah, hello dear patrons and dancers, singers, and actors. Pardon my intrusion," Erik announced as he took their slow decent down the stairwell. "I hope you are enjoying your masquerade tonight. Monsieur Lefarve my fiancée and I are glad to be in attendance."

"I swear to God, he takes every attempt to flaunt that little whore." Antoinette gritted, keeping her hand in Montparnasse's.

"I would assume that this is the man you're in love with?"

"And the little brat Éponine."

Montparnasse dropped her hand, "Éponine?"

"Some little urchin he kidnapped and I tried to get rid of her but she found her way back."

"Éponine?" Montparnasse shouted, louder than he expected.

Éponine's smile faded suddenly when she heard her name. She ignored the male voice, trying to search them out with her eyes.

Erik continued un-phased, "We have come to announce our latest arrangement. She is my muse. Lefarve." Erik tossed the leather bound manuscript at the owner's feet. "A tragic love story about Roxane and Tristan." He turned to smile at Éponine, wrapping his arm around her waist. "This will be your new star. Her talent is natural and pure."

"My Éponine?"

"You Éponine?" Antoinette gasped, turning to look at him. The name finally rang a bell. "You're Montparnasse!"

Éponine looked down into the crowd of people, Antoinette. It was obvious that it was her. But who was that beside her? He was tall and thin, dark hair. With masks everyone looked the same.

"You expect to come here and just tell me how to run my opera house?" Lefarve snapped, picking up the manuscript. "Who is the girl?"

"Éponine ___Thénardier." Montparnasse stepped forward through the crowd. "__My_Éponine."

"Montparnasse." Éponine gasped, leaning against Erik's arm.

"This is where you have been?"

"Please don't do this now."

"I think our time is run short. Lefarve you know how to contact me." Erik took a step backwards, pulling Éponine back with him. She expected that she was going to feel the impact of the ground but there was an empty space beneath her. They fell down for a few seconds before he caught her impact. "Come, we must hide."

**A/N: Antoinette's dress and Eponine's dress can be found on my main page.  
**

**.**E


	27. Chapter 27

"Come on!" Antoinette whispered to Montparnasse as the crowd gasped at the large cloud of smoke that enveloped the blood red pair and had made them vanish into thin air. She grabbed his hand and pulled him along through the crowd, making their way down one of the corridors.

"Where are you taking me?"

"You are going to get her back and he will be mine." Antoinette snarled as she tugged him along down the hall. "He lives beneath the Opera House, that's where he's keeping her."

"Why 'Ponine?"

"Because I wasn't good enough."

"Why wasn't I good enough? She was with me not even a week ago and she came back here?"

"To a life with someone who is half as handsome as you." Antoinette said as she pushed open one of the doors along the corridor. "This is the prima donna's room. This mirror is one of his many ways around the Opera House."

"Who is this man?"

"He is the Phantom of the Opera. He is a hideous man who I have cared for ten years of my life. I get nothing in return. Nothing!" She pushed the at the mirror finding just the right spot that released the lock that let it slide open.

"He has to have some hold on Éponine. She has always been so particular about appearances. I am handsome, Marius is handsome."

Antoinette turned to glare at him, "I don't care about what she likes or what she doesn't! I want her gone. Take her and don't ever look back."

"Perhaps your dress should have been green with envy." Montparnasse mocked as he made his way down the staircase following after her.

"You have not had to work for ten years with no appreciation."

"I have though. Year after year I hear about Marius and how perfect he is." Montparnasse snapped, grabbing her arm and jerking her back. "We could ignore this tonight. We could make them jealous."

Antoinette fought his hold as he pulled her close, "What are you implying?"

"I am implying that obviously jealousy has strongly affected us, so shouldn't it affect them?" His lips hovered dangerously close to hers, making her lean away.

"No it doesn't work. Because neither of them seem interested in returning to us. Do they? Did she run into your arms? Did he stumble on his words and walk down those stairs to me? No."

Montparnasse frowned, "You never know, it might just work."

"Get away from me," Antoinette pushed on his chest. "I have someone, I told you that."

"But you obviously don't want him if you're so bent on getting this –"

"Erik."

"Getting Erik."

"I don't want anyone else to have him. Doesn't necessarily mean I want to be with him forever." Antoinette leaned up slowly to kiss him. What would one kiss do? It might convince him to help her get Éponine out of her life. She'd do anything she had to get her out of the way.

~o~

"The fall didn't hurt you did it?" Erik asked as they took a moment to rest. He had helped her sit down on the swan bed, stroking her cheek caringly. "I had to do it, I wasn't thinking about our bab-"

"I'm fine." Éponine reassured, taking his hand into hers. "It wasn't a very hard fall. I think you broke the landing."

"I'd prepared it for the occasion. There was bedding beneath it." Erik sat down beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and letting her lean against his chest. "That did not go as we planned."

"Montparnasse was there. He was with Antoinette." Éponine bit her lip, curling her arm around his waist. "That's a deadly combination."

"But if we hear them coming, this time I'm taking you and we're leaving." Erik smoothed his hand over her hair, pressing kisses into the locks. "I'm not letting anyone have you."

Éponine sat up and looked at Erik, "Will either of them ever stop? Is this how our life will always be?" She combed her fingers through her hair, "Montparnasse is a persistent man. He's the one who found me locked in the Rue Plumet, he knows I came back here on my own accord. I was a bat out of Hell as soon as I was down to the street."

Erik laughed, "But I'm sure neither of them will listen. If he's working with Antoinette we know how she sees your stay here. I've possessed you and altered your mind with some spell."

"The only spell you've spun is the music you have enchanted me with. Love came on its own." Éponine pressed her lips against his, kissing him slowly.

He pulled back smirking, "Now is not the time, my dear. I think it would be far worse if they found us in bed."

"I should change, this is impractical for hiding." Éponine stood up but he caught her arm. "What?"

"Stay in it. You didn't get to enjoy the ball, like I had planned. So, stay in it and make them jealous of how beautiful you are."

"Can you loosen the corset?" Éponine turned around, brushing her hair in front her. "Don't want to put too much pressure on my stomach."

"Our child," Erik said softly, stroking his hands over her stomach. "I never imagined having a child."

Éponine turned in his arms, "You're afraid that I'm going to leave."

Erik faulted, not having the words to say. "Éponine, you see straight through me. How do you do that?"

"You are very predictable." Éponine ran her finger along one of the ridges of the skeleton mask. "I would be afraid too."

"Is he a handsome man?"

"Montparnasse?" Erik nodded. "Yes he is. He was the first man I was ever with." She felt her cheeks grow hot.

"Don't be embarrassed." He pulled her into his arms hugging her. "I always want to know about the beauty of another."

"You're beautiful inside and out." Éponine rubbed her hands over the warm red velvet of his tailcoat.

"Even with my face?"

"Yes. We don't need to go through all of this again do we?" Éponine laughed shoving him in the shoulder playfully.

Erik smiled, kissing her forehead. "I still don't think I'm worthy of an angel like you."

**A/N: Sorry this chapter's a little short. I wanted to break it off there. Just a little flash of what's going on with each pair. I'm still not sure how I want to proceed. Jealousy or not? Flaunting or not? Hiding or not? Leaving or not? Taking or not?**


	28. Chapter 28

Antoinette pushed at Montparnasse's chest, breaking away from his lips. "Stop! Just stop. I don't want you. But we can use each other."

"I wouldn't mind using you." Montparnasse smirked, his eye brows wiggling suggestively. What he wouldn't give to have a gorgeous dancer in his bed.

Antoinette wavered, trying to think of what would happen if she was too cocky with him. He might not help. "Come, we must go before they escape."

"What's your plan to win him back."

"You. And sing."

"What are you going to sing?" Montparnasse asked as he took her hand and followed her.

"I can't even sing well," She admitted, watching her feet as she took the staircase forever down. "If you only knew how much I love you. Would you still misbehave the way you do? Forever tempting fate, while I just sit and wait. And worry about what fate might do to you."

"Not too bad," Montparnasse lied, he knew why she was a chorus girl and dancer.

She shot him a backward glance, "If you only knew how much I suffer. Would you maybe change your point of view? Or will you still go on, till all our dreams are gone. And hope that I will still be there for you."

"Is he really all that?"

"Let me sing!" She snarled, jerking her hand out of his hold. "Must I go on like this forever? Not knowing when or whether you'll return. Do I just sit and yearn? Or try to live and learn? And learn to live with what you put me through? If you only knew…"

"My real question is, why 'Ponine? She can't sing."

"Éponine has found her "talent"."

"Her talent is a far cry from singing." Montparnasse joked, "Her talents involve less closes and a different kind of singing."

"I am certain that Erik has learned about that too." Antoinette snapped, trying to push all of the thoughts of them getting dressed that first time she came in on them.

~o~

"Why are we sitting here waiting for them? Shouldn't we leave and then return when they're gone?"

Erik shook his head, "I don't trust Antoinette not to destroy my lair."

"Our home." Éponine corrected looking up at him, from the awkward position she was lying in. He had been adamant that she rest, so there they were lying on the bed. She'd taken to lying sideways across the bed on his chest, letting her feet dangle over the wing of the swan.

"Yes, our home. It no longer feels like a dungeon with you here." Erik smoothed his fingers over her hair, smiling at her. "There, did you hear that?" They both sat up, their eyes going directly to the shimmering water.

"Gentle lapping?" Éponine pulled herself up, staring out at the lake. "Yes."

"There, a shadow on the wall." Erik pointed, standing in front of her. This time, no one was going to get a hold of her.

Montparnasse. What would he say? Erik knew she had an unsavoury life before she became his protégée. But hearing first hand from one of her most frequent customers would hurt more. "Erik, you know that I sold myself? I told you my body for a few sou?"

"Yes, yes." Erik replied, looking over his shoulder at her. "Don't worry."

"Montparnasse, that man, he was my lover. He didn't always have to pay for me and-"

"Éponine, don't worry. Nothing anyone can say will ruin what we have. If my murderous past didn't hold you away the fact that you were a whore doesn't sting at all." Éponine cringed at the word as she watched Erik walk to a concealed compartment behind the organ, returning with a rapier blade. "Don't worry. Warn not kill."

"Éponine!" Montparnasse called as the gondola came into view. "Come away from the man."

"No!" She shouted back at him, "Why do they not believe that I love you?"

"Because no one believes that ugly can be loved."

Éponine bit her lip as she watched to gondola grow closer and closer. She clutched Erik's arm, digging her fingers in. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I behold that you are beautiful."

Erik smiled as they landed on the coast.

"Let go of my Éponine!" Montparnasse shouted, "She's mine."

"I am not yours!" She retorted, "He who holds my heart does."

Antoinette's face dropped, she couldn't act around Erik. She knew it wouldn't work. He wouldn't care. He'd never realise what he was doing to her. "You don't love her, Erik, you can't! You don't know her, you've hardly known her."

"I have _known_ her, Antoinette." Erik warned, glancing over his shoulder at Éponine. "I have already announced that she is to marry me."

Éponine stared at Montparnasse, taking a deep breath. "We are together 'Parnasse, truly. I love Erik more than I ever loved you or Marius."

"Every good little bit knows how to make a man _love_ her." Montparnasse laughed coldly, wrapping his arm around Antoinette's waist. He expected her to jerk away but she leaned against him willingly.

"I don't care what you think, 'Parnasse. I want to stay here, I want to sing, and I want to be a star."

"As you can see, Monsieur, the girl is mine and you lose," Erik said smugly a proud smile curling at his lips.

"How do you figure that I lose?" Montparnasse countered.

"Because, I have Éponine as both my lover and my fiancée, but also the mother of my child." Erik's menacing tone echoed around the lair.

Antoinette's eyes shot wide, "A child?"

"A child," Erik grinned, turning to face Éponine, speaking quietly to her. "Second mirror back where you found my music box." It didn't set in at first, Éponine glared at him in confusion.

"Share with the class," Montparnasse called, as the duo walked towards the couple. "No need to hide things amongst friends."

"Don't take another step closer," Erik warned reaching for the rapier tauntingly, taking a step back with Éponine close behind him.

Antoinette ran, she couldn't contain herself. She wanted him to understand. "Erik, please! I have always been there for you. Why?" She grabbed at his jacket. "Please."

Erik shoved her off, turning and running with Éponine. "Go!" They ran back towards the mirror he had mentioned, smashing it with the nearest object. Montparnasse and Antoinette followed behind them, racing up the uncovered staircase after them.

"You can't have him!" Antoinette screamed, grabbing the trailing red material of Éponine's ball gown.

"Erik," Éponine gasped as she felt her footing slip. It happened in a blur, she hardly had a chance to scream. She tripped, careening backwards down the staircase. Montparnass and Antoinette broke her landing for the most part before she completely fell into the void of darkness as she felt the cold stone beneath her cheek.

**A/N: Well, well,well. Cliff Hanger much? (:**


	29. Chapter 29

Her face felt wet. Was it blood? Had she cracked her face and she was bleeding? Her face did hurt terribly. The pain was terrible. But it didn't feel like blood. Everything ached, every inch of her body. What had happened? She just remembered falling and then now. She wiggled her fingers slowly.

"Éponine!" Erik sniffled, wiping at his face to clear away the tears he had been crying. "Éponine, shhh. Just stay still."

"Erik?" Her eyes fluttered open, it wasn't blood after all, Erik had been crying. His face was red and his eyes were puffy looking. "What-"

"You fell, no thanks to our friends. They've gone now." Erik stroked her face, smiling now that she was awake. "You're okay now."

Éponine started to sit up, clutching her stomach suddenly in pain. "Erik," Her eyes closed in agony. "What's going on?"

"There was blood." He gulped, his eyes travelling down to the white of her underclothes and where they were stained with blood where her legs came together. "Just lie still."

"The baby." Éponine gasped, resting her hand on her stomach. "No."

"Just rest, there's nothing either of us can do about it." Erik stroked her cheek, pressing a cheek against her temple. "You're fine that's all that matters."

"The baby."

"Shhh." Erik, kissed her lips trying to silence her crying. "It's going to be alright. There's time to have more."

"Our baby." Éponine whimpered, rubbing her stomach and hoping and praying that it wasn't true.

~o~

"That was a bad move 'Toinette." Montparnasse snapped, as he followed her up the winding staircase. "You shouldn't have pulled her down."

"Be quiet." She snapped rubbing the back of her head. "I fell too."

"I was at the bottom mind you."

Antoinette pushed at the window, sliding it open to let the light from the dressing room shine down the staircase. "You can go now."

"Not so fast," Montparnasse grabbed her hand and spun her around. "You've been teasing me since that night at the Tavern. You don't really think I'll let you get away that easy do you?"

"Montparnass-"

"Pierre if you please," He tucked a loose strand of her blond hair behind her ear.

"Pierre," Antoinette purred with a wide grin on her face. She wasn't going to let him get away; he could be her chance later on. Tonight had gone terribly in the wrong direction. Éponine getting injured only would bring them closer together. She ran her tongue of her lower lip, smirking at him. "What do you know? Look where we are."

Montparnasse chuckled, leaning into kiss her. "Kiss my bruises?"

Antoinette smirked, pressing her lips against his. He was a handsome man, more handsome than Jules and Erik, of course. It wouldn't be hard to go to bed with him, to keep her in his good graces. "I'll kiss whatever you tell me to."

~o~

"Marius, Enjolras." Combeferre called as he came into the ABC Cafe, he unbuttoned his overcoat and hung it up on the coat rack. "You wouldn't believe tonight."

"What?" Enjolras looked up from the book he was reading.

Combeferre sat down at the table across from him, "Éponine, I saw her tonight."

"Where?" Enjolras looked surprised, "I know that she vanished from Rue Plumet, but we have had no news."

"The Opera Populaire."

"Was she with the monster?"

"Both arrived at the gala, dressed in red and calling every ounce of attention to them." Combeferre laughed, "I've never seen her so happy before. Until,"

"Until?"

"Montparnasse that rat of a boy she runs around with. He and some little dancer went after them. They vanished in a puff of smoke right before my eyes."

"Have you been drinking?" Enjolras narrowed his eyes, watching the young man sway in his seat.

He smiled at Enjolras, "A little bit. Enough. You should've been there Enjolras."

"Tell me what happened with the girl."

"Apparently the hellspawn has been teaching dear 'Ponine to sing. They've composed a musical and expect the Manager to put it on."

"You don't say." Enjolras rolled his eyes, "Our Éponine is apparently a real something suddenly. She's lost her wits." He thumped his book down on the table. "We have got to be swift about this. If this musical happens we will be there. We will have guards. If we kill the beast this spell that he's spun will be broken."

"Kill the monstrosity you say? He didn't seem much like a fierce creature, he practically gave her to us when we went the first time."

"We should have killed him then, if we had there wouldn't be a second time needed."

~o~

Erik lay beside Éponine on the bed, comforting her as she cried. She was such a strong woman and now with one slip of her foot she was reduced to tears and agony. His mind kept going around and around everything that had happened. He was suddenly doubting himself. Had he only told her he wanted to marry her because she had been pregnant? He didn't want his child to live a life like he had, the life of a bastard. He wanted to protect Éponine and that meant marrying him.

But he loved her, he did love her. He knew he did. That ache he had felt while she was gone had been heart ache. Something he was so unaccustomed to that he thought he must've been dying. So why was he doubting that he had made a rushed decision with her? Was it just because he didn't think he deserved her love? If she didn't need him to be there for her, he knew she would hit him for feeling like he wasn't worth her time.

How did he know what love was? He'd never known one ounce of it in his life. Antoinette had been care, not love. Something, she needed to realise sooner rather than later. Éponine had returned to him, she came back on her own accord. She knew her fate, she knew his world and she came back. She needed him as much as she needed him.

Erik pressed a kiss against her cheek, resting his forehead against her cheek as she slept. He loved her.


	30. Chapter 30

Her pale ivory skin was stained purple and blue, her arms and her face were bruised from the fall. She was a pitiful sight to be seen, it killed Erik to see her face swollen and discoloured. She was beautiful and there was no need for her look like this. It was his job, after all, to be the ugly one in this relationship. Perhaps the fact the she had lost the baby was a blessing in disguise. They wouldn't risk bringing another monstrosity into the world. No matter how much his heart ached for the little life that never had a chance, his own flesh and blood, he knew it was for the good. And for that he was thanking God.

"Erik?" Éponine asked as she shifted in the bed with a hiss of pain. "Note to self, my back hurts."

Erik helped her sit up, letting her rest against his chest. "It's alright, you're alright. Just a few bruises a few bumps."

"That _bitch_." She growled, taking his hand in her hand and leaning back against him.

Erik laughed at her comment, kissing the top of her head and hugging her. There was no doubt now that he loved her. She was still that feisty woman who had tamed him. "I love you."

"I love you too," Éponine looked up at him, "I want to sing."

"You need to rest," Erik warned, rubbing her arm.

Éponine pushed up, ignoring the burning pain in her lower abdomen from the hard contact with the stone staircase. "I'm fine." She lied as she fought his arms to slip out of the bed. Was her baby really gone? Thanks to a selfish and jealous ballerina and Montparnasse, a jealous lover. She wouldn't let that twinge of emptiness overload her mind, music would fill that void. For now.

"Éponine, you need to rest."

She ignored his protest and wandered across the lair gingerly. Every inch of her hurt and felt like a carriage had ran her over. "I just need your music."

"You want me to sing?" Erik followed after her, staying just in stride with her in case she lost her footing. "What do you want me to sing?"

"Something new."

"You want me to create just like that?"

Éponine turned and looked at him with a smirk, "You know you can."

Erik helped her sit down at the organ before sitting down beside her, "Let me see what I can do, to appease such a trying patient."

"I'm waiting," She teased, resting her elbow on the edge of the organ's moulding, pressing her cheek against her fist.

Erik began playing; the melody was gentle and floating. It made her smile to hear him playing, it seemed like forever. His fingers moved along the keys so skilled and trained. His mind worked in mysterious ways that allowed him to create music so elegantly and easily.

"I have brought you to the seat of sweet music's throne. To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music. Music. You have come here, for one purpose, and one alone. I first heard you sing. I have needed you with me, to serve me, to sing, for my music. My music." She smiled as he sang, a song about his music. The one thing she wanted right now.

"Night-time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defences. Slowly, gently night unfurls its splendour. Grasp it, sense it - tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light. And listen to the music of the night. Close your eyes and surrender to your darkest dreams! Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before! Close your eyes, let your spirit start to soar! And you'll live as you've never lived before. Softly, deftly, music shall surround you.  
Feel it, hear it, closing in around you. Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind, in this darkness which you know you cannot fight. The darkness of the music of the night."

"Music of the night?" Éponine smiled, wondering which music he was referring to. His voice was sensual and alluring, making her burn in a way other than in pain.

"Shh," Erik smirked, giving her a sideways glance. "Let your mind start a journey through a strange, new world. Leave all thoughts of the world you knew before. Let your soul, take you where you long to be. Only then can you belong to me. Floating, falling, sweet intoxication. Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation. Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in to the power of  
the music that I write - the power of the music of the night."

Éponine wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning her head against his shoulder. "I think I know which music of the night you were referring to."

Erik chuckled, "Yes, perhaps. But that's music I am going to have to live without until you are better. I don't want to hurt you anymore than I already have."

"You didn't hurt me."

"Inadvertently everything I have done in my life caused you this pain. If I had never led Antoinette on, if I had never brought you here, if I never fell in love with you, if I nev-"

Éponine pressed her lips against his to make him stop talking, she didn't want to listen to him have a pity party about all of his past crimes in his life that had somehow made everything bad in the whole world happen.

"Stop," Erik pulled away from her lips reluctantly. "It's a bad idea to keep this going when we can't. Right now."

"I wasn't insinuating that, I just wanted you to stop talking." Éponine gave him a little smile, "It's just all of the fear and terror building up."

Erik glanced down at her stomach, his brows furrowing together. "Perhaps we can try again sometime in the future."

Éponine paused, unsure of what to say. "I-." She bit her lip, "I guess we could. In the future."

"You don't want to?" Erik sighed, relieved that he wasn't going to have to worry about bringing a child like him into the future.

Éponine shrugged, "I don't really feel like the baby's gone."

"There was blood. A lot of blood." Erik pressed a kiss to her forehead, "You don't have to worry about this right now."

"What would we have named the baby?"

"What?"

"If the baby had been born what are your name choices?"

Erik stared at her confused, "That thought never crossed my mind."

"Fleur and Damien." Éponine wrapped her arms around his body, pressing her face against his chest. She hissed as she felt the bruise on her thigh pressing against the bench.

"I've always liked Gabriel and Giselle." Erik took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. He would make Antoinette and the fop Montparnasse rue the day that they ever messed with the Phantom of the Opera and his fiancée. No one was going to hurt her and get away with it.


	31. Chapter 31

"I just want to be better soon so we can start working on our musical," Éponine sighed as she lay in the bed watching Erik moving around the lair. They had not had breakfast yet, or any food for that matter, since yesterday and she was starving. She figured Antoinette would not be showing her face again, meaning food would be more difficult to get. "Will Lefarve want to you use the musical?"

"He put on a show for the Masquerade, can't appear to not be in control. I have been providing the Opera Populaire with some of its most successful cantatas for the past eight years. He _will_ use our show. If he knows better, he will also obey to my order that you and I are the stars of the performance."

"Me? A star?" Éponine couldn't help but laugh at that thought. It still amused her.

"Your potential is all there. Perhaps loosing the baby has given you the chance to really shine." Erik frowned, the words came out sounding greedy and harsh. A musical over a life. "I only mean that you are petite, you could have been quite large by the time the opening came around."

"I know what you mean," Éponine stretched back on the pillows, resting her hand on her stomach. It could have been worse, she had seen women loose babies at five months when they were swollen large and could feel the baby kick. Or even worse the baby could have been born dead. Two months, she'd not even started show there was just her own subconscious bump she had started to seen.

"I have to be brutally honest with you," Erik approached the bed, wanting to at least look her in the eyes to tell her. "I didn't want the baby. I want to be a father, but I don't want a child."

"I, I don't understand."

"I was and I am afraid that a child of mine may come out a spitting image of me. I can't bring a child into this world with this curse."

"But, how do you know that the baby will be born like you? It's not that big of a deal, we would love the child nevertheless."

Erik sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed and looking at her, "Mon ange, not everyone is kind like you."

"Our plans were to stay down here though."

"I do not think that you will always wish to live without sunlight on your face."

Éponine took his hand, "The garish light of day?"

Erik smiled, "Yes the garish light of day. You were born in light and beauty you don't deserve to always live in my hell."

"I want to," Éponine sat up in the bed, curling her legs underneath of her and sitting on them.

"What did I do to deserve you?" Erik stroked his thump over her hand, bringing it up to kiss it.

Éponine scooted closer to him, "When are we going to get food?"

"I will go up and see if I can steal us something from the kitchens. If I'm lucky I'll be able to bring enough for the next few days."

"You can't leave me," Éponine grabbed his arm as he started to move. "No, what happens if she comes back?"

Erik gulped, "I don't really think she'll be showing her face down here again."

"But what happens if she sees you and she comes down here?"

"You need to rest, not to follow me around the pits of the opera house." Erik tried to loosen her grip on his arm, "Éponine."

"Please, I'm fine. I have a few scrapes and many bruises but I'm fine."

"You need to get dressed then." Erik moved to get into one of the trunks that were still packed up from when she was gone. "Green or blue?"

"Blue."

Erik held up the dress for her to see, "Good enough for you?"

Éponine swung her feet over the bed, slowly rising up. "It is good enough for me. However I need help changing out of these." Erik looked up, he had meant to have her change out of the blood stained clothes earlier but he didn't want to aggravate her.

"Come here," He motioned for her, meeting her half way. He slowly ran his hands from her hips, taking the chemise up with his hands. He couldn't help himself when he was around her, she just made him want to touch her. Éponine gave him a quizzical look as he pulled the cloth over her head.

Erik could see the extent of the bruising on her abdomen, the dark colouring staining her pale skin. He gently touched the skin, skimming his fingers across the bruise and making her laugh. The muscles underneath twitched at his touch. "Erik?"

"I'm sorry," He muttered but didn't stop his hands from exploring her tender flesh. "You know we don't have to make love to enjoy each other."

"I do know this," Éponine grinned cheekily, shivering as his hands ran down her waist and to push her bloomers from her hips. "Is breakfast on hold then?" She smirked, leaning up to kiss him.

~o~

Antoinette ran her hands through her hair as she woke up, rolling over to see that Montparnasse had gone. She couldn't believe she had slept with him. What would Jules do if he found out? She had always promised him that she was not like the other girls. She was a true lover.

Now she was a whore like the rest of the ballerinas. She had so quickly given herself to a complete stranger because it could work for her.

She groggily got up and redressed, today the yellow gown looked ridiculous and hideous. Yellow was the colour of the sun in the sky but she felt like a dark cloud. She finished dressing before she left the room, making her way down the hallway towards the dormitory. They had no shows this weekend, most of the girls would be resting until they had a lesson this evening.

"Antoinette?"

No. She turned to see Jules standing there, "Hello."

"Where were you? I came back to the ball last night after some big thing happened with _Him_ and couldn't find you."

"I'm sorry." For more than just the lie I'm about to feed you. "I didn't feel well so I used the Prima Donna dressing rooming to sleep."

"Someone said there was a couple in there making noise last night." Jules gave her a little smile.

Antoinette laughed shyly, "Well I was in there all night and didn't see a thing."

"You sure you're alright?" He gave her a kiss on her cheek.

"I'm fine, just tired."

**A/N: Well, will Antoinette's secret come out? My lovely "E"s got to share some time together. (: But what will happen next? Dun dun dun.**


	32. Chapter 32

Éponine followed behind Erik as he led the way towards the kitchen, "How did you find all of these hidden passages?"

"They were here from before the Opera Populaire was built. I constructed some of the exits to leave the passages in the last few years. This one in particular." Erik replied, a little smug and proud.

"You created them?"

"Long story," Erik shrugged, as he pushed the stone wall until he found the right one that let the door swing open. "After you."

Éponine walked through looking around at the kitchen. "I'm starved."

"I thought I satisfied your hunger already," Erik smirked at her, smiling when he saw her blush and fluster, passing her to look for something to take back for food. "Croissants, some sort of pie." He sniffed at the pastry and snarled his nose.

"Fruit," She added as she scooped up a few apples and pears.

Erik continued to rustle through the kitchen, leaving it a mess in his wake. "Cheese."

Éponine took a sniff of a jug sitting on the counter, "Wine."

"I think we can live on bread, cheese, wine and fruit. Don't you?" He shoved the food into a basket that was sitting on the floor, offering it to her to carry. "Do you think you can stay here for just a few minutes while I go up and talk with Lefarve?"

"I-"

"Without you."

"But-"

"Antoinette is not going to be down here in the kitchen."

"Fine." Éponine pouted, sitting down in the cook's chair.

"I'll be back," Erik pressed a kiss to her lips, giving her cheek a gentle pat. "Don't worry." She rolled her eyes as she watched him go, taking a bite out of one of the apples. She didn't understand why she couldn't just go with him. Lefarve wouldn't mind her there, she figured.

But no, he wanted to go alone and leave her sitting in the dusty kitchen somewhere in the upper bowels of the Opera House.

From where Éponine was sitting she could see a man sneaking into the kitchen. He was around her age, maybe a little older. He was dressed like a worker, like one of the men she had seen scrambling around behind the scenes of the ball.

He looked around cautiously, spotting her. "Uh- Who are you?"

"I could ask the same." Éponine said calmly taking another bite of the apple. She was dressed nice enough that she didn't look like some urchin that had snuck into the Opera House.

"What are you doing down here?"

"What are _you_ doing down here?"

The man frowned, "Are you a parrot?"

Éponine looked at him sarcastically, "Not exactly, I don't see any wings or feathers."

"Why are you down here?"

"I was hungry," She held the apple up, "Obviously."

"Who are you?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," Éponine tried to keep her voice from cracking, she was terrified about what would happen if he alerted the security. Even the gendarmes. What if they remembered her face?

"How about I try this," He held his hand out, "Jules, that's my name."

Éponine bit her lip, shaking his hand cautiously, "Giselle." She lied, only able to think of the name Erik had mentioned that he liked.

"Are you a ballerina here?"

"Um.." Éponine paused, obviously faltering to lie there. "No, a friend of one the girls. Just passing time. I was hungry."

Jules laughed, "I came down her to get my fiancée something to eat. She was sick last night apparently, says she missed breakfast this morning and everything."

"The ball was quite a riot." Éponine laughed, thinking of just how much a riot it became when they appeared.

"Apparently, did you see the phantom pair?"

Éponine gulped, "Yes, all dressed in red and demanding what every they wanted?"

"That's what I heard. Antoinette told me about everything she had seen."

"Antoinette?" Éponine asked, trying to keep from obviously stiffening.

"Yes, she's my fiancée. Do you know her?" Jules began to dig around the kitchen, searching for something to eat.

"I, I think I met her last night. The name sounds familiar."

"Who are you here with?"

Éponine looked past Jules, seeing Erik standing in the door way. "She is here with the Phantom of the Opera."

Jules wheeled around, "Jesus Christ."

"Far from it." Erik mocked, approaching the man in long, swift strides. "And you are Jules LaFleur, Antoinette Giry's lover. How does feel to be with such a conniving bitch?" Erik hissed, laughed as the man cowered away from the quickly approaching ghost.

"Monsieur Phantom I beg that you keep your distance," Jules reached for a knife on the counter.

Éponine stayed back, watching the scene unfold. She wanted to jump at Jules and knock the knife away but she knew Erik would be able to take him on. She was not someone who could take on a full sized man.

"Your little whore has ruined my life over and over again. She may have saved me once but she has damned me over and over again."

"You don't know Antoinette." Jules waved the knife, eliciting no fear out of Erik.

"I don't know Antoinette? I have known her half of my life. Do you know that she is grovelling for my attention, trying any little lowly way to get my undying love? She killed me unborn child!" Erik shouted, darting at Jules and grabbing his wrist. "Do you know that she came down to my world with some fop of an excuse for a man and tried to take my fiancée?"

"You lie."

"You're a fool!" Erik shoved him back against the counter, the knife was sent flying across the counter. "You live in some blinded state where you think she is sweet in innocent."

"I know she's not innocent. I know that she's determined to have your attention. She just wants to be noticed and appreciated."

"She's useless to me. She cannot sing and she's a decent ballerina. But I am a musician not a dancer."

"Erik," Éponine warned, shaking her head as she watched him reach for the knife.

"Antoinette deserves to learn a lesson." He glanced at her, his eyes pleading for her to let him have his vengeance. His breathing was coming quick and heavy, desperate just to feel the satisfaction of killing Jules.

"No."

Erik's fists balled in Jules' shirt as he let him go. "Go now and remember the day that you were spared by the Phantom of the Opera."


	33. Chapter 33

They had hardly made it out of the boat when Erik finally spoke, his tone harsh and serious. "I could have killed him. I wanted him dead."

"But you didn't." Éponine replied calmly passing him a loaf of bread, he shook his head. "You need to eat."

"I want to kill, Éponine." Erik gripped his hands together, wringing them as he took a shaky breath. "I want someone dead for this."

"Erik-"

"No." Erik jerked forward, wrapping his arms around her and clutching to her desperately. "I cannot let these people get away with hurting you."

"I'm fine."

"The reality of it all has not set in mon ange." Erik buried his face in the crook of her neck. "I cannot let someone hurt you and get away with it. There must be blood spilled."

"Not for me. Not the blood of someone who had nothing to do with this." Éponine ran her hands over his thick black mane of hair, kissing wherever she could reach. His body was trembling, shivering. He was obviously fighting the urge with every ounce of strength he had. "Please."

"I want Antoinette to pay. I wanted to kill him before. When she caused you to be taken from me." Erik pulled back and looked her in the eyes.

She stared into his emerald eyes, seeing hurt and pain that she hadn't seen in a long time. "Can't my love fill that void?" Éponine sank quietly down on the bank of the lake, kicking her shoes off and letting her feet slip into the water. She knew that Erik was so scared from everything in his past that this was one thing that they would never overcome. No matter how many times she had told him that she cared about him no matter who or what he was or had down and that it changed nothing he wouldn't listen. He saw no reason or truth in the fact that he was as human as the rest of them.

"Éponine, your love can fill every void that this world has given me except for that. You cannot erase what I have done with a patch and a kiss." He sat down beside her, watching as she ate torn off pieces of the bread. "When I'm angry my first response is to kill. I want whoever is closest to suffer like I have."

"What if I'm the closest? What if I'm the one who angered you?"

Erik shook his head, "You don't understand."

"Because you don't ever try to explain the strange mysteries of your mind to me."

"Because you don't need to know what lies inside my perverse mind." Erik stared pit at the water, watching as it ebbed and flowed. So many times he would lay here on the bank and pray that if God could just let him drown in the water that that was all he asked.

Éponine watched his face, the veins in his forehead were still popped out from all of his anger, his lips were thin and dead looking, and drawn straight in a line and his eyes were a darkened green. "You should take your mask off."

"I just put it on." He gritted, self-consciously touching the porcelain.

"Where's you salve? The stuff you said helps loosen it."

Erik glared at her for a long moment, watching her blankly as she rose to her feet with her hands on his hips. He was not her dog and he was not trained. She was the one he had taken in like a stray dog on the street, to train and to love. Did he look defiant or just like a petulant child?

"Erik, I asked where you have your salve so you can take your mask off."

"Maybe I don't want to take the mask off."

Éponine rolled her eyes, walking up the bank towards the inner part of the lair. She had seen it last somewhere in one of the back crevasses. She listened for a moment to see if he was coming, but heard not a rustle.

Why couldn't he just understand? She knew he had killed, she had accepted it for the most part, she knew that once you make your first kill each succeeding kill becomes easier and easier. Her father and Montparnasse had both killed, out of protecting themselves and others. She remembered the first time Montparnasse had had to kill someone. She had never seen him so distraught, but the next time he was merely disturbed and by the third time he was critiquing about how he could've done better.

She could understand his longing for making someone pay for everything that had happened. Antoinette was the main person that deserved every ounce of misery Erik wanted her to suffer, but those around her did not.

Erik sat on the coast, listening to the sound of Éponine walking around and moving things in search for the salve. He wanted to take his mask off, it made it difficult to sulk properly with it on. He could feel his veins pulsing still, his heart rate was just barely starting to slow down. When he felt like that, he didn't know who his wrath would land on. It could be even Éponine.

"It's by the music box." Erik called, staring out at the shimmering lake. It seemed to be doing the trick at calming him, giving him something to watch and study.

"Thank you," Éponine replied back, stepping into the nook and taking the vial. Erik's face was an unsettling sight to see, no matter how accustomed to it that she pretended to be. Sometimes at night, when she rolls over the twisted flesh startles her in the dim candle light. He always seems to try his best, sleeping on his left side, so his cheek is pressed into the pillow. She knows he pretends it's because he wants to be able to keep an arm over her. But she knew that wasn't true. How could sleeping on such painfully swollen, misshapen flesh be comfortable? He had be adamant that he couldn't sleep on the opposite side of the bed.

Éponine loosened the cork on the vial as she walked down the slight slope of the bank, resting on her knees in front of him. "How do you?"

"Let me d-"

"I want to." Éponine insisted, batting his hands away from the vial.

"_Éponine_." He warned, his eyes staring at her coldly. She stared back at him with a smirk and an unrelenting glare. "Fine." Erik shook his head, pulling his gloves from his hands. "Take the salve in your fingers, rubbing them together. You'll start with either the top or the bottom of the mask and just massage the salve along the edge. It'll start to loosen and you'll pull it up slowly from the bottom and gently press a finger beneath to place more salve to remove the adhesive mixture."

Éponine took a deep breath as she rubbed her fingers together, applying it just like he had said. He stared out somewhere over her shoulder as she worked, ignoring that she was right in front of him. Gently she peeled up the edge, hesitating as his eye flickered shut the skin slowly pulling from the mask. "I'm not hurting you, am I?"

"Just continue."

Slowly she let her finger slip beneath the mask, spreading the salve as she went to loosen. She jerked when he hissed, watching his eyes slam shut. "I'm sorry." She cast her eyes down as she continued, afraid to meet his emerald eyes. The mask finally was removed and she could see that she had hurt him. There was a tiny patch of raw, bleeding skin where she hadn't managed to get it off fully.

As Éponine reached towards his cheek, he flinched away meeting her eyes warningly. "Go put my mask away."

"No." Éponine insisted, her finger tips coming in contact with his skin lightly, first tips then finger pads. Despite how twisted and mangled the flesh looked it was as smooth as velvet. She watched his face as she slowly stroked the skin, massaging it carefully. He was tense, eyes boring into her face and telling her silently to stop and just let him alone. But she ignored those silent protests and continued her calming exploration.

Erik tried his best to keep a stark expression. Her fingers felt like heaven against his skin. No one in his life had so willingly touched him like this. Her touch was warm and soft and caring. He took a long deep breath that made her jerk a little. He felt his lips turn up as he looked into her loving brown eyes, as he closed his eyes to enjoy the sensation.

Finally she had managed to make him calm down. His face wasn't so red anymore and the vein in his forehead was sinking back into place. She leaned towards his disfigured cheek, replacing her caressing fingers with her soft lips. He tensed at first, melting into the touch of her warm and moist lips trailing across his horrible cheek.

How was it that she had been able to do this to him? Calm him, care for him, love him, accept him, approve of him, stay by him. That was what was confusing him the most. He was used to being beaten and left, used to the crowds jeering and leaving, and used to Antoinette leaving whenever he got a little testy. But here was Éponine, stubborn and determined to not leave him alone until he caved.

"How did I deserve you?" Erik asked breathlessly, quickly moving so he could replace his cheek with his lips, taking her by surprise.

"I could ask the same thing," Éponine smiled at him before kissing him again and again. She scooted forward on the bank, so that she was sitting between his legs. Her arms rested on either shoulder, leaning her forehead against his. "I'll have you know, everyone gets tired of me after awhile."

"How could anyone get bored with you?" Erik said huskily running his hand down her side to rest at her hip. "I couldn't imagine ever getting tired of you. So many new ways to tease and explore you. Not to mention you drive me crazy in a pleasant way."

"Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around. Nothing's harm you, no sir, not while I'm around. Demons are prowling everywhere. Nowadays. I'll send 'em howling. I don't care. I've got ways. No one's gonna hurt you. No one's gonna dare. Others can desert, not to worry, whistle, I'll be there." Éponine sang softly, running her fingers through his hair.

"Your music, my music."

Éponine smiled at him, "In sleep he sang to me. In dreams he came. That voice which calls to me and speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find, the Phantom of the Opera is here. Inside my mind."

"Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you, grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me, to glance behind. The Phantom of the Opera is there inside your mind."

"Those who have seen your face, draw back in fear. For me it holds no fear."

"I just need to hear." Erik stroked her cheek, his eyes shining brighter than they had been. "In all your fantasies, you always knew. That you and I."

"Will say no good-bye." Éponine pressed her lips against his, sinking into his embrace.

"You're making this terribly hard on me," Erik whispered roughly, his voice heavy with desire. With a wry smirk he pulled her closer to him. Urging her legs to unfold so that she could rest it over his hips.

"Like you don't enjoy it?" Éponine teased, pressing against him with a playful grin. She used his shoulders to push herself up and proudly striding up the coast.

"Éponine, get back here." Erik jumped up and moved after her, laughing when she took off running. "Get back here!" Erik growled as he chased after her. She proved to be difficult to catch, she could easily dart around the boxes and the rocks, slipping right past his hands. The chase made him want her all the more.

Her laughter and giggling that filled the lair made him realise just how important she truly was to him. She brought light, laughter, and love into a place that had once been dreary and miserable.

"Catch me if you can!" She teased as she darted past him, just barely out of reach.

Erik joined in on her laughter, "Just you wait until I catch you. I'll make you pay."

"I am _so_ scared," She mocked, standing a few feet away from him with her hands on her hips. She looked like a goddess. Her hair curly and hanging around her shoulders, her face beaming at him, and her very stance just seemed to scream that she was not human. "Ah, ah." Éponine rushed past him as he pursued her.

"You're going to regret messing with me little mademoiselle."

"I just like making it _hard_ for you." Éponine give him a seductive wink, as she jumped on to the swan bed.

"You don't have to do much for that happen." Erik replied hotly as he stared up at her from the side of the bed. "If I get up there to get you are you just going to run?"

Éponine grinned, "Maybe." But contradictory to her words she held her hand out, letting him pull her down into his arms.

"I love you."

**A/N: So just a little more E/E fluff with my angsty Erik in the beginning. It wasn't exactly what I was expecting to happen in this chapter. I wanted him to be really distant and cold to her and actually cruel. But I couldn't do it.**


	34. Chapter 34

Wanting someone and being wanted in return was the most amazing feeling for both Erik and Éponine. It was something they were not willing to give up any time soon. For half of his twenty some years Erik had lived with only knowing the menacing glares, brutal beatings, and mocking laughter of his captors and spectators. No motherly love, no kind touch, no passionate caress. Éponine, on the other hand, had known her mother's hug, her friend's playful pats, and many lovers' passion filled embraces. Erik begged for solitude and Éponine desired freedom. In so many ways the two were polar opposites, life had treated them in two very different ways. But there they were, brought together by divine intervention.

"I love you," Éponine murmured as she placed several small kisses on his neck, curling into his arms as the relaxed in the elegant swan bed. "I don't want to get up."

"We need to get up soon," Erik ran his hand up and down her arm. He had been gentle with her. He knew things could have quickly turned from pleasure to pain if he did anything wrong. Without anything covering her he had been able to see just how many scrapes and bruises she had received. Fuelling the ever burning desire to murder someone in revenge for what had happened to Éponine.

"No, I want to stay right here with you." His fingers brushed one of her bruises a little too hard, making her hiss. Burying her face, in pain, against his chest she felt him tense.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Surprisingly that was the first time you've hit one wrong."

Erik gently lifted her arm up, shifting so he could place a soothing kiss against the angry purple skin. "That is surprising after all of that."

"Erik," Éponine started and then shook her head, "Nevermind."

"No. What?"

She closed her eyes taking a deep breath. "It's not a very delicate thing to say."

"Go ahead."

Sighing she rolled over to rest on her back for a moment before propping herself up on her elbow and staring at him. "Well, you know I've been with several men?"

"Yes."

"It's just, I've always been so used to giving a man everything he wants that I really cherish our times together. No show just love."

Erik rested his arm over her waist, stroking her hip. "Why was that hard to say?"

"Because somewhere deep inside of me I'm an old fashion romantic." Éponine laughed softly, still embarrassed that she'd said it. "If I was born to any other family I'd have been a pure and virtuous woman."

"I wouldn't have wanted her." Erik smirked, trailing his fingers up and down her side making the muscles beneath twitch.

Éponine smiled, scooting closer to him as his touch ran farther up her side. "I think it allowed me to be so much more passionate."

Erik laughed, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "And that is something I wouldn't have you without. That passion has tamed me."

"You? Tamed?" She slipped her elbow out of under her so she could scoot closer. "I don't think you're the tameable kind."

"This is a man not a beast now. The beast dwells inside, but he's not winning that fight." Erik rolled over, "We need to get up or we're never going to get up."

Éponine pouted as she watched him slip out of bed to gather his discarded clothes. His back still made her cringe, he had the flesh torn and ripped to shreds by a whip at some point in his childhood. "Why do we have to get up?"

"Because tomorrow is your first rehearsal as Roxanne and you need practice." Erik replied matter-of-factly as he buttoned his shirt.

"What?" Éponine rolled out of bed and started pulling her bloomers on. "Lefarve wants me _and_ you."

"There was no question over that, it was either both or no musical." Erik grinned as he pulled his pants on. "He said that the musical might be one of the most magnificent pieces he has put on his stage."

"But I'm not that magnificent."

"Yes you are," Erik reassured as he strode, barefoot, across the lair to the organ. "Come, come. To be magnificent you must practice."

"Just wait a moment, I'm pulling my chemise on."

"No need to put anymore on." Erik replied, a little bit of the seductive husk still in his voice.

"Well I can't argue with that." Éponine strode across to join him at the organ, giving him a nervous smile. "So me, on stage in front of hundreds?"

"Thousands."

"That sure helps my nerves, Erik."

Erik stroked the curve of her back, before continuing sorting through the stacks of music. "Lefarve is not certain if I should attend the rehearsals."

"I need you there."

"He mentioned some sort of make-up they used in a show, a sort of cover all that I might use to hide some of this mess. He said that it was thicker than make-up and formed into different shapes. They used it some performance to give a man a larger nose."

"It could make you look..."

Erik's eyes flashed at her, "Handsome?"

"That was not what I was going to say." She rolled her eyes, "I was going to say that it could make you look like everyone else."

"Exactly. And he recommended that I wear it for the show as well."

"I'll have you know, I like this face very much. I don't see why you hide it."

"That is because you are some kind angel here to comfort this old demon. The audience or performers are not so generous."

"What about Antoinette?"

"We'll deal with her when the time comes."

~o~

Antoinette slipped from the Opera Populaire soon after she had heard the news that _Tristan and Roxanne: Infortuné Amour_ would be performed at the Opera Populaire in two months. She had to inform Montparnasse so that they could plan what they were to do.

She walked into the Inn that she had first seen him at, "Excusez-moi, I am looking for Monsieur Montparnasse."

The large woman behind the counter gave her a once over, "And who are you?"

"Antoinette Giry, I am a friend of his."

"He didn't take long to move on from me daughter."

"Éponine?"

"Of course. Not that I've seen her sorry face around here in a while. Got 'erself into trouble no doubt."

"Actually.." Antoinette paused, "She's performing at the Opera Populaire as the star in two months."

"My God.."


	35. Chapter 35

The woman gave Antoinette a sceptical look, "I find a rise in success improbable for my brat."

"She's there. She is. She's with a man."

"Eh, good fer 'er. Hope 'es better than the louse I'm married to." The woman continued with cleaning up the table, "She's a big girl, she can do wot e're she wants to."

"But he's a monster."

"You've not seen what I've got." She laughed loudly, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "She's been a bother for the past eighteen years. Don't expect me to start caring when some little bit comes in 'ere."

Antoinette frowned, her plan was not working. "Have you seen Montparnasse then?"

"No."

"May I leave a note for him then?"

"Sure."

Antoinette left him a note, short and sweet.

_Montparnasse,  
Her first performance is in two months.  
We need to meet to plan.  
-Antoinette_

She folded the piece of paper and left it with Éponine's mother, hoping she'd at least deliver it to him. Her mother would be panicking if she'd never came home once or if she'd been a little late, but Éponine's didn't seem to even worry if she was alive or dead.

~o~

"Aa, ae, ee, oo, uu." Éponine sang as Erik played up the scales of the organ before moving back down. Every octave she met the notes, cracking only on some of the higher notes.

"Now let's try, ma, mae, me, moo, muu." Erik laughed when Éponine stared at him with a smug grin.

"I wanted to do ta, tae, tea, too, tu."

"How about sa, sae, see, soo, sew, sue?"

Erik laughed as she playfully swatted his hands away from the keys, "How about I make you sing?"

He gestured for her to take his seat, rising to his feet quickly. This would be entertaining. "What would you have me to sing, _maestro_."

Éponine gave him a mocking glare as she took his seat; she stretched her arms in front of her before arching back in the bench to stretch her back. Erik couldn't resist smiling at the gracious eyeful he got when she leaned back like that. "I was thinking that you can sing the cow version."

"The cow version?"

"Ma, mae, me, moooo, muu."

"If you can play it _right_ I will sing it."

Éponine stared at the keys, they looked menacing to her. She'd never paid much attention to where his fingers moved, they moved so quick and skilfully she never felt the need to concentrate on them. Not, when there were more interesting things to study. "Well, it starts. Um."

"Here," Erik took her hands in his, curving them over her smaller ones and placing them on the keys. "Like that."

"I knew that."

"Of course," Erik teased, "Ma." He shifted their hands, "Mae," again, "Me."

"I see."

"No, we're doing "M" not "S"." He moved their hands again, "Moo," again, "Muu."

"You did it."

"Well, you played it correct." So many weeks ago their warm ups had been drastically different. His hands were gloved, his face was masked, he was stiff and rigid, she was being forced to sing, and there was no laughter or gentle teasing. They had come so far. Through so much. Hate, love, together, separated, reunited, pregnancy, losing the baby; and all only in a few short months.

"Erik?" Éponine glanced up at him, curious as to why he was staring at her with a silly little grin.

"Sorry, where were we?" He sat down on the bench beside her, resting his hands in his lap. "We should probably go over _Past the _–"

"Can you sing _Le Tango De Roxanne_? I know you sing that in the musical. I just want to hear you sing." Éponine gave him a flirty smile, trying to entice him to sing. Despite being terrified about singing tomorrow for a rehearsal, she didn't want to practice.

"Might as well start teaching you what I have in mind for the dance." Erik found the sheet music, placing it before him. He took a deep breath before diving head on into the beautiful music. "Roxanne, you don't have to put on that red light. Walk the streets for money. You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right. Roxanne, you don't have to wear that dress tonight. Roxanne, you don't have to sell your body to the night. His eyes upon your face. His hand upon your hand. His lips caress your skin. It's more than I can stand!"

She could feel her pulse begin to race as his music and his voice flooded his mind. She knew that their characters were inspired by them, for the most part. Roxanne was a prostitute before she met Tristan. Just like Éponine had been before she was caught by Erik.

"Now how about we try _Past the Point of No Return_?"

Éponine shook her head, "I have seen those lyrics if we sing those, there is a chance we won't get any work done the rest of the day."

"Why, does?" Erik began to play a random part of the song from memory, "What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us? Affect you?"

Éponine bit her lip, nodding slowly, "As does, 'In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenceless and silent and now I am here with you. No second thoughts I've decided."

"When will the blood begin to race? The sleeping blood burst into bloom? When will the flames at last _consume_ us?"

"Enough!" Éponine gasped feeling her sense finally returning to her. "You wanted to get work done; you didn't want to lie around in bed all evening."

"Our musical is full of passionate lyrics Éponine. Lyrics we will be singing before audiences night after night."

She gulped, closing her eyes. "It will be different then, I won't be afraid about containing myself. I would never dare to let those seductive words seduce me in front of an audience."

Erik smirked, "There's no audience now."

**A/N: Well the last two chapters were a little plot thrown in with E/E fluff. I just picture the two of them as being very passionate people. I don't see them skirting around much. Seeing as I've wrote Erik as being someone who experimented his passions with (unwilling) prostitutes and that Éponine** **was a prostitute because of her parents I just figure that now that they've found someone they're really happy with that they would be pretty inseparable. Do you think it's too much?**


	36. Chapter 36

"Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to introduce to you. Erm, ah Mademoiselle..."

"Éponine." She gave a shy smile, her fists knotting into her skirts. Everyone's eyes were on her and she felt bare before them. Where was Erik when she needed him?

"Your surname please," Lefarve raised his brows, looking disappointed and aggravated.

"Mademoiselle ___Thénardier." She heard a snicker or two in the group of girls. She figured they'd heard her parent's name around town, they weren't exactly proudly known around._

_"__She and Monsieur-" _

_"__Le fantome." Someone sneered in the crowd causing a clatter of laughter._

_"__It is Monsieur Erik Destler if you please." _Éponine turned to see Erik striding across the stage proudly. Her eyes grew wide. For a second she hadn't even recognized him, if it hadn't been for that distinctive voice she wouldn't have. His cheek was completely natural looking, no ridges or redness or swelling. "You must accept my apology for my tardiness."

"Your face." Éponine whispered as he offered his arm for her to take. He gave her a half smile, the skin may look normal on the other side of his face but he still felt the mask against his skin.

Lefarve stood there, mouth agape, for a moment before catching himself. "He is the creative genius behind the new performance, as well as the male lead."

Éponine watched the girls face's as they stared at Erik. Of course they stared now, in awe of his handsome appearance. With two sides of his face, closely matching, he was a handsome gentleman. They did not know what he truly looked like, despite having heard whispers and rumours about the Opera Ghost. Once he opened his mouth to sing, she was fully aware every girl in the chorus' hearts would be set aflame. But they had never known what it meant to have their heart set aflame by the true Erik.

"I was hoping that we would begin rehearsals with the blocking and the song for, _Somewhere_."

"Ah, Monsieur Destler I was rather hoping we could do _I Don't Know How to Love Him_, I would like to see this girl sing by herself first, before we jump in any farther."

"I-"

"You can do it." Erik smiled, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. "Remember to tighten your diaphragm and sing out like you're trying to hit the back of the auditorium. And breath."

"We don't have all day," one of the chorus girls shouted, surely hoping they would get to take her role and sing with the handsome stranger.

"Monsieur Lefarve, would you like the scene before it?"

"Yes, if you would." Lefarve cued the maestro, the harpsichord began to play the music that ran beneath the scene.

Éponine took a deep breath, letting the pretend begin. She turned to look at Erik, his face seemed so foreign to her. One more breath and she was ready, "Please, Tristan. Don't."

"Roxanne you cannot deny what you feel."

"I can and I will." Éponine turned her back to him, moving across the stage towards the corner of downstage right. "Go, Tristan."

"But not for good." Erik turned to exit the stage, standing just behind the curtains. Éponine glanced over her shoulder, moving back across the stage in a confused manner. Roxanne was so unsure of what she wanted. To love him or to not.

The music began to swell and she looked out at the audience, "I don't know how to love him. What to do, how to move him. I've been changed, yes really changed. In these past few days, when I've seen myself, I seem like someone else. I don't know how to take this. I don't see why he moves me.  
He's a man. He's just a man. And I've had so many men before, in very many ways. He's just one more. Should I bring him down? Should I scream and shout? Should I speak of love, let my feelings out?"

She could hear the gasp of some of the girls and could feel Erik's proud smile.

"I never thought I'd come to this. What's it all about? Don't you think it's rather funny, I should be in this position. I'm the one who's always been so calm, so cool, no lover's fool. Running every show. He scares me so. I never thought I'd come to this. What's it all about? Yet, if he said he loved me, I'd be lost. I'd be frightened. I couldn't cope, just couldn't cope. I'd turn my head. I'd back away. I wouldn't want to know. He scares me so. I want him so. I love him so."

Clapping, there was clapping. She had done well. Éponine turned to see Erik returning to the stage and wrapping his arms around her in a loving embrace, "You did it mon fleur."

Lefarve clapped his hands together, "I think we have a star on our hands."

Antoinette stood in the wing, watching. How could she sing? How could she be dark haired and delicate, ivory skin and gentle smile? She had had no training, no experience. Hardly even knew Erik. But there she was the future star, the young prima donna, and Erik's lover. Everything she had worked so hard to be, but never would be. Unless...

There were ways to remove proud little stars.

"Let's go over _Somewhere_ now." Lefarve said, motioning for the commotion to stop. "I have no doubts of your voice now, nor do I doubt Destler's voices is not superb however I would like to see how your voices mix together."

"Be prepared," Erik grinned, staring out proudly at the empty auditorium. He would finally be able to perform for an audience, with the help of Éponine as his mask. His face, though it was "normal" to most, was still his weakness. He knew it looked average now, but the doubts about the plaster were weighing heavy. It could move or slide if it was touched wrong or moved too much in singing. He had always been his weakest without his mask. But Éponine being on stage with him rid him of the fear.


	37. Chapter 37

"I have a plan," Antoinette said as Montparnasse returned to the table and sat a mug down in front of her. She took a sip and watch him sit. "Would you like to hear it?"

"Of course I would like to hear it." He gave her a smug grin, before taking a long gulp.

"Her parents, what are they like?"

"I wouldn't call them much of a plan. They wouldn't care if she was alive or dead. Especially if she's not providing them with an extra cut."

"That's exactly what my plan is. Lefarve loved her and she of course has Erik falling all over for her. But, she's the new "star". Wouldn't her parents want some of the money she's going to make?" Antoinette grinned from ear to ear.

"That is a perfect plan," Montparnasse reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. "The _perfect_ plan."

"You'll have to talk to her parents. They'll believe you."

He ran his index finger over the top of her hand, "For a price."

"I thought the price was that you get Éponine back?" Antoinette jerked away from his touch.

"Perhaps just a teensy favour?"

Antoinette took a deep breath, trying to stay composed. "For a favour then."

Montparnass rose to his feet, gesturing up the stairs of the Inn. "After you."

~o~

"What a successful day."Erik smiled back at her as he rowed the gondola along the lake. "You did beautifully."

"As did you." Éponine studied his strange new face. "I don't like it."

"Performing?"

Éponine looked down at her hands; she hadn't meant to say it out loud. "No. I love that."

"Then what don't you like?" Erik quirked his brow questioningly.

"Your face."

Erik stopped rowing for a moment, turning back to look down at her. "My face?"

"The make-up. It hides your true beauty."

"This scar is not beautiful it is hideous. This at least hides my outward corruption."

"Erik," Éponine whined, rolling her eyes. "Just because those silly chorus girls favour two handsome cheeks. I could see their adoring smiles and watchful eyes." She laughed, running her hand through her hair. "I like you for who you really are."

Erik smiled, feeling his heart soar high. "This is why I love you and not some silly chorus girl."

"Then you will refrain from wearing that and your mask when we're home?"

Home? He hadn't heard her calling his abysmal lair home before. She considered it home? "If you would like me not to then I will oblige."

"Thank you."

"But, I'll have you know even with this I'm still wearing a mask when I'm above ground." Éponine gave him a curious look, making him laugh. "You. You are my mask."

Éponine watched as Erik swiftly leapt from the boat, dragging it the rest of the way up the shore. He offered her his hand to help her out. "How am I your mask?"

"Because you have accepted this," He gestured to his cheek before starting to peel away the thick make-up. "You accepted it and have loved me. I'm still the insecure monster above ground whether they see a handsome man or not. I still feel like the grotesque circus freak."

"My love is your mask?" Éponine followed after him as he walked towards one of his many covered mirrors. He pulled the cover from the mirror and stared at himself as he pulled the make-up away. "You see now, that's the man I love."

Erik's eyes flickered between their reflections. How could she possibly love this face when she had the ability to make love to a man with a full face. He could pretend that a little make-up made him a new man, but he was still the incomplete monster he'd always been. Except his heart was full of love.

"A heart full of love. A heart full of song. I'm doing everything all wrong. Oh God, for shame."

Éponine wrapped her arms around his waist, settling her cheek against his broad shoulder. "A heart full of love. No fear, no regret."

"I don't know what to say."

"Then make no sound."

"I am lost." Erik admitted, singing softly.

"And I am found."

"A heart full of light."

Éponine pressed a kiss to his shoulder, "A night as bright as day."

"And you must never go away," Erik turned in her embrace, wrapping his arms around her.

"This chain we'll never break."

"Do I dream?"

Éponine smiled up at him, peeling away another piece of the make-up. "I'm awake!"

The song ended as Erik dipped down tantalizingly slowly towards her lips. They barely brushed against each other at first, teasing and tempting. Éponine tried to lean up to let them press together but he pulled back. He resumed is small feathery kisses, before kissing her gently and slowly. The kiss seemed to last forever as he went from slow movements into hungry, passionate and frenzied kisses.

"What was that for?" Éponine asked breathlessly as he pulled away.

Erik gave her a content smile, "I wanted to kiss you all afternoon."

~o~

Jules waited by the employee stage door, impatient and angry. Antoinette was not in her dormitory and the girls he asked said they'd seen her slip out of the room and leave the Opera House. The words that the "Phantom" had uttered still echoed in his mind. Could Antoinette really be cheating on him? She despised that kind of behaviour and he had been lead to believe that she was above that petty betrayal.

The door opened, where he stood hid him from the sight of the young blond ballerina that was slipping into the building. She looked around in the shadows, nervous and wary, missing the hiding stage hand.

Antoinette.

She took a few short steps before he reached out and caught her arm, his hand flying to cover her mouth before she could scream. "_He_ was right. Little tramp."

"Jules!" She gasped, pushing his hand from her mouth. "It's not what you think."

"It's not? You're hair's not bed tumbled? Not knotted from your lover's grasp as he used you for his pleasure?" Jules' grasp at the back of her neck tightened, "You smell of it. You _reek_ of it."

"No. No. No, Jules. It's not like that. It's not. I'm not." Antoinette felt the hot tears flooding to her eyes. This wasn't what she wanted to happen. Jules wasn't supposed to find out that she had been with Montparnasse. How did he even suspect?

"Who is he? I know the _monster_ wouldn't even touch you with a stick. So what scum have you picked up along the way?"

"His names Montparnasse. He's a patron."

Jules let go of her, watching her collapse in a heap. "Don't lie and say Lefarve told you to go whoring yourself for patrons."

"It's not for him." Antoinette trembled, wracked in fear and sorrow.

"Who is it for then? Is it some other attempt to get his attention and get rid of that girl?"

"Yes." What was the point in lying?

**A/N: Eppie and Erik thrive while Antoinette's destroying herself. And the song's a skipped and revamped version of "A Heart Full of Love", it came on my playlist and I thought it fit. (: **


	38. Chapter 38

Antoinette wanted to run down the stairs, cross the grotto, and find Erik and his precious Éponine. She wanted to scream and to shout, to curse and to cry. It was their entire fault. All if it was _His_ fault. He wanted to make him pay for hurting Éponine. She wouldn't even care if she interrupted them indulging in the intimacy of each other. She was over caring what they did at night anymore, all she cared about was that she was able to have Erik one day.

But she knew that if she went down there, she wouldn't be able to contain her anger and her rage and her plans would run from her mouth and spoil it all. Montparnasse was at least willing to talk to Éponine's parents about coming to see their black sheep perform for the Opera Populaire. Not without a cost on Antoinette's part, but it was worth it. Pierre could be an old, disgusting man but he was young and handsome. It wasn't nearly as hard as she pretended it was for him to get her into bed.

Would Jules ever want her again? She had tried to explain why she was sleeping with the well-to-do Pierre Montparnasse, patron to the arts and former lover of Éponine. But those words only incriminated her more. To Jules she was sleeping with Montparnasse to get him to help her rid the Opera House of Éponine and in turn, win Erik. More or less meaning Jules didn't mean anything to her, but someone to pass the time with. Which was far from the truth. Antoinette could have lived her whole life with Jules if Éponine had never shown up. The jealousy for Erik would have never set in so deep and he would still be friends with her and be his old brooding self.

Antoinette knew she would never be good enough for Erik's musical penchant. Her true forte was dance; she had always been told if she kept practicing one day she would be the Ballet Mistress for the Opera Populaire. But that was not good enough for her. She wanted to Erik's pupil, to learn to sing with him. When Éponine sang on stage with Erik during rehearsal, the jealousy burned hotter and hotter. Their voice was like one singer, combined together with perfect harmony and melodies so unearthly that it made her heartbreak. She was never going to be that girl.

Five years of hiding Erik, a crazed abused fifteen year old boy in the cellars of the Opera Populaire. which quickly sank into another five years of aiding a musically possessed young man and helping him win favour with Monsieur Lefarve. Ten years of her life were wasted on Erik Destler and suddenly in four months he was in love with some act-of-fate girl. It wasn't fair.

Her voice was far from perfect. A gravely mixture of soprano and alto. The notes she could hit had no connection or flow, they were broken and separated; hit or miss. The pitch of her notes always ended as they went, quickly sinking down into bad notes. She was no prima donna material, or even a true chorus girl. She was always the dancer, she had limited times when she opened her mouth.

Erik would never cast her as anything monumental. Or musical. She was merely going to be that pretty dancer behind the scene. The pretty dancer who had lost everything to try to gain one man, that she could never have.

" Don't dream too far. Don't lose sight of who you are. Don't remember that rush of joy. He could be that boy. I'm not that girl. Ev'ry so often we long to steal. To the land of what-might-have-been. But that doesn't soften the ache we feel. When reality sets back in"

~o~

"Does Roxanne have to dance very much?" Éponine asked as they were getting up in the morning. Dressing for a long day of rehearsals. "I can't dance, I really can't."

"The tango and few little dance steps here or there." Erik gave her a small smile as he was applying his face. "You did well enough with the tango, I think you can do it."

"Don't be nice, you know you saw that I couldn't dance."

"You dance well in bed," Erik smirked giving her a hot glance. "It's true you were a little, left-footed but you should do alright."

"If singing wasn't bad enough in front of a crowd think of being up there and dancing like a fool."

"You are no fool," Erik replied, smoothing his hand over his jet hair as he admired himself in the mirror. "Once they see the costumes you'll be in the audience will forget to look at your feet."

"Oh?" Éponine laughed, as she pulled her chemise over her head, before pulling on her crinoline.

"They will be as seductive as the character and the actress." Erik moved across the lair to help her tie the pale rose and white striped skirt around her waist. Helping then, with the laces of the matching bodice. "This dress suits you well."

"A star needs her wardrobe." Éponine bit her lip. "Hides my feet too."

"Ah, but the dress you will be wearing for the seductive parts of the musical will be far from hiding."

"You want me looking like a strumpet in front of thousands of men a night?" Éponine teased, running her hand across his well dressed chest.

"Of course. Because I know that it's teasing them when you're all mine every night."

"Speaking of which, when are you going to make an honest woman out of me?"

"Opening night." Erik cupped her cheek and pressed a gentle peck to her lips. "That's when you will get the ring as well."

"Then I will be Éponine _Destler_. I didn't know you had a surname."

"I took it some time ago. It doesn't really hold anything to me." Erik chuckled, "It was just some name I created one day. If I wanted to be a notable figure here, I had to have a surname."

"Erik and Éponine Destler. It has a ring to it." It sounded far better than Pierre and Éponine Montparnasse or Marius and Éponine Pontmercy.

"Shall we?" Erik offered her his arm, as they set off walking towards the gondola.

**A/N: I did not just try to redeem Antoinette. But every villain has to have reasons and motives that make them human! I'm currently thinking of making a sequel after this is finished. But that's if I end it tragically like I really **_**really**_** want to that will allow for Christine. Hehe Also, check my profile to see the dress I used for Eppie's dress. I found it and couldn't help but use it!  
**


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: Fast forward time. Two months were going to be too much write, so this is the week before opening night (:**

Marius walked into the ABC Cafe holding a piece of parchment in his hand. His eyes were wide, his hand trembling slightly. Enjolras sat at one of the tables, scouring through several thick novels taking notes with his quill as he read. He glanced over his shoulder as the door slammed closed, seeing Marius.

"My friend, you look as though you've seen a ghost."

"It's 'Ponine.."

"What is it?" Enjolras rose to his feet, taking the parchment from his mute friend. "It's an advertisement from the Opera Populaire?"

"Read it."

Enjolras took a closer look, _Infortuné Amour_ starring.." His eyes shot wide, "Starring Éponine Thénardier as Roxanne."

"Now you see why I am in a state of disbelief. How can she be a "star"? She's just 'Ponine. Simple 'Ponine."

"That masked monster no doubt." Enjolras examined the advert further, "The ill fated love of Tristan and Roxanne. The pauper and the prostitute." He laughed, "Well, what a novel concept. I do believe we shall have to attend this performance. A night at the opera."

"Will we get Éponine back?" Marius asked, with a cold smile on his face.

"Hearts ablaze. Banners high. We go marching into battle. Unafraid although the danger just increased. Raise the flag. Sing the song. Here we come, we're fifty strong. And fifty Frenchmen can't be wrong. Let's kill the Beast!"

~o~

"Uhm, Maestro, I am having difficulties with "_I saw you and the world went away_". 'Saw' just keeps coming out very, it's hard to describe."

"Of course," The orchestra began the music again, the conductor giving her a bright smile. Éponine had won over almost everyone in the company with her stubbornness, her hard work, and her genuine talent. The Ballet Mistress didn't like her, or her inability to get her feet moving the way she wanted, and was forced to simplify a few of her steps. But, only Antoinette genuinely hated her.

Éponine turned to see Erik, sitting on the edge of the crate, his blocking. "Tonight, tonight. It all began tonight. I saw you and the world went away. Tonight, tonight. There's only you tonight. What you are, what you do, what you say."

Erik gave her an approving smile as he rose to his feet, moving across the stage swiftly to meet her. "Today, all day I had the feeling. A miracle would happen. I know I was right."

Their voices combined as one as he placed his hands at her waist, "For here you are. And what was just a world is a star. Tonight." As Roxanne she smiled at towards the audience, letting a little crack of worry show in her face as they continued. "Tonight, tonight. The world is full of light. With suns and moons all over the place." Tristan was so full of hope, this had to mean Roxanne loved him in return. Didn't it? "Tonight, tonight. The world is wild and bright. Going mad, shooting stars into space."

The music stopped, on cue Roxanne broke away from him, shoving his hands away from her waist. "No, Tristan. You do not deserve me. Or rather, I do not deserve you."

"Roxanne, we are the same. You are poor and I am poor. I have nothing to my name and neither do you."

"I care about you Tristan. You are worthy of someone better than me."

Their kiss.

Tristan reached for her, grabbing her arm and sliding his arm around her waist in one swift, fluid, move. He pulled her towards him, kissing her. Éponine gasped a little, pretending to be Roxanne as best as she could and ignoring her real feelings towards Erik.

Roxanne gave into the kiss before reason returned, "No!" She yelped pushing away from Tristan.

"Roxanne."

"Tristan no." Roxanne turned away, staring towards the wing of the stage – her exit. "I love you." Without a second glance she walked off stage slowly, leaving Tristan on stage.

"Very good, very good." The maestro clapped, announcing the end of that scene. "I believe we are going to take a break and return to work the tango scene."

"Yes," Erik nodded, standing with his hands behind his back. A few chorus girls watched him from the opposite wing, pointing and giggling. Éponine smiled triumphantly to herself as she strode back on stage. She couldn't help but want to show off around Erik.

"We were brilliant." Éponine beamed as he held his arms out for her, wrapping his arms around her and holding her close. He kissed the top of her head, and smirked as she saw the chorus girl's envious looks.

"You were brilliant," Erik followed her gaze, laughing. "Well aren't we devious."

"Who me?" Éponine gave him a playful smile, leaning up to kiss him nimbly. "Never."

"You have nothing to worry about." Erik gave her a sly smile before kissing her fervidly, letting the kiss linger and grow. "But, I must admit I share your devious mind."

"I figured that about you." Éponine gave his arm a lighthearted shove, "We should practice the tango again."

"You'll be fine." Erik reassured, "That's a difficult scene I know.

"I have to let Roxanne take over. I am there, dancing with another man when you see me. It's all a symbol for the work that _I_ do. That's when you sing."

"You fight the man's hold as you tango, he slowly rips parts of your dress away until it's a rather revealing dress, but modestly so. I watch until he shoves you away and into my arms."

"I cry in your arms and admit that I love you."

"Cue dynamic dialogue and _Past the Point of No Return_."

~o~

Montparnasse entered the Inn, shedding his frock coat and throwing it haphazardly on a stool. "Madame Thénardier!"

"Eh, what d'you want 'Parnasse?" She waddled out of the back room, wiping her brow with the cloth in her hand. "Azelma!" She shouted, "I told you to stay out here and watch for guests."

After a long moment the young brunette came racing down the stairs, "I'm sorry I just went up to check on one of our guests." She looked sheepishly towards Montparnasse before handing her mother a few coins that she had been gripping in her hands. "What I was paid."

"Good girl, run along now. I've had to haul myself out here now." She turned her attention back to Montparnasse, giving him a stern glare. "I haven't seen 'Ponine if you've come a lookin' for 'er. 'owever for a little pay, Azelma over 'ere's not so bad."

"I'm not here for that, Madame. I am here to give you this." Montparnasse produced the advertisement from the Opera Populaire. "I believe, our dear 'Ponine has found higher places than with us. I thought you may like to know. I'm sure they're paying her _graciously_."

"Starring Éponine Thénardier as Roxanne." She read, her eyes going wide. "That little bitch."


	40. Chapter 40

The Opera Populaire was flooded with patrons. Everyone who was any one in Parisian society was there for the opening performance of _Infortuné Amour_. The rich and the well known were greeted by Lefarve as the filed into the Opera House, escorted by employees to their seats. Every seat in the auditorium was sold out, every balcony and every box seat. Even Box Five, the box seating that was never to be sold.

Éponine stood behind the curtain, trembling like a leaf. "You're going to be stunning." Erik said, sneaking up behind her and wrapping his arms around her. Everything he had been working towards was finally there. Ten long years and he was finally a composer, a lover, and an actor.

"Erik." She buried her face in his shirt, her hands clutching the material.

"Just think about tonight. Think of how you are going to be Madame Destler." He crushed his lips against hers, savouring them for the last time as Erik and Éponine. Their next kiss would come as Roxanne and Tristan, five scenes later.

"I'm so nervous."

"You will be great." Erik kissed her forehead before leaving the stage. The music had changed, signalling places to be taken.

Éponine took a shaky breath, smoothing her dress as she stood centre stage. The curtains would open and it would be all her. Who was there? How large was the house? Would they cheer? Would she win them?

The curtains opened, the lights igniting on the stage. Éponine smiled, laughing as Roxanne.

"What a silly girl to dream of love." She moved to sit down at the chair, the stage set like the tavern where she worked.

"I follow the night. Can't stand the light. When will I begin to live again?" She took a deep breath, picking up the cloth on the table and scrubbing it as she sang.

"One day I'll fly away. Leave all this to yesterday. What more could your love do for me? When will love be through with me?"

A gentleman strode into the Inn, hand out with a swing pouch of money. Roxanne sighed, shaking her dark curly hair out as she strode towards him. She loosened the top lace of her corset, turning away from the man and looking out at the audience. Good Lord, there were so many.

"Why live life from dream to dream? And dread the day when dreaming ends. One day I'll fly away. Leave all this to yesterday. Why live life from dream to dream? And dread the day when dreaming ends. One day I'll fly away. Fly, fly away."

Roxanne turned back to look at the gentleman, and taking the pouch of money and letting him lead her off stage left.

Tristan entered stage right, carrying a small sack with his few belongings. He looked around curiously, finding the Inn empty. He sits down, looking up as Roxanne stumbles back onto the stage.

"Good evening Monsieur, what will y'ave?" Roxanne grabbed up the cloth she'd left at his table, giving him a friendly smile.

"Do you have any ale?"

"Course we have ale, it's tavern after all." Roxanne laughed, walking to fetch him the mug. Tristan stared after her, smiling.

He opened his mouth to sing, "My gift is my song. And this one's for you. And you can tell everybody. That this is your song."

"Did y'say something?" She asked, sitting the mug down at his table.

"It may be quite simple. But now that it's done. Hope you don't mind, I hope you don't mind. That I put down in words. How wonderful life is now you're in the world."

Roxanne laughed, "Are you sure you need a mug of ale, seems y'ave 'ad to much already."

"Sat on the roof and I kicked off the moss. Well some of the verses well, they got me quite cross. But the sun's been kind while I wrote this song. It's for people like you that keep it turned on."

"Monsieur!" Roxanne pushed back her dark hair, tucking it behind her ears. She busied herself with cleaning another table, looking up at the gentleman as he continued.

"So excuse me for forgetting, but these things I do. You see I've forgotten, if they're green or they're blue. Anyway the thing is what I really mean. Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen."

"Well aren't you the flatterer." Roxanne blushed, waving a finger at him. "You 'ave a name?"

"Tristan." He stuck his hand out to shake hers, she extended hers and he kissed it.

"Roxanne."

The crowd clapped as the lights dimmed, giving them time to switch scenes.

~o~

The show was a hit, every song was sung perfectly and every scene was might with adoring clapping. It had finally flowed into the final scene of the first act. This was the scene with the tango that turned into the seductive final song of the act. The set was ready for them.

Roxanne entered stage left, pursued by a gentleman who was unrelenting about removing the laces of her bodice.

"Please." She begged, pushing him away. He dangled a purse of money in front of her face as he cornered her.

Tristan entered on the opposite side of the stage, stopping in his place as he saw the man hauling Roxanne into her arms and beginning the tango with her. He stood and watched, tormented by the sight.

The chorus began to sing, the dancers that mimicked flames and passionate couples. "First there is desire. Then... passion! Then... suspicion! Jealousy! Anger! Betrayal! Where love is for the highest bidder. There can be no trust. Without trust, there is no love! Jealousy. Yes, jealousy... Will drive you.."

"Mad!" Tristan roared, collapsing to his knees. "Roxanne. You don't have to put on that red light. Walk the streets for money. You don't care if it's wrong or if it is right. Roxanne. You don't have to wear that dress tonight. Roxanne. You don't have to sell your body to the night."

Roxanne and the male, danced the tango. Pieces of her dress being ripped away, revealing only a tight black bodice, with a low slung chemise that clung to her shoulders and hardly covered the rise of her bosom. In one of the slow moves, her leg was drawn up the man's chest, allowing him to rip the red dress away, revealing the crimson under skirts that made up the second costume.

Tristan rose to his feet, walking towards the couple. "His eyes upon your face. His hand upon your hand. His lips caress your skin. It's more than I can stand."

"Tristan." She cried out as the man nuzzled at her neck.

"Why does my heart cry?"

Roxanne sang out, as she was shoved towards Tristan, "Feelings I can't fight. You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me. And please believe me when I say I love you."

"Why does my heart cry out? Feelings I can't fight."

Roxanne sank into his arms, able to finally find rest from the dance of her occupation. "Tristan, please forgive me."

"You don't have to be like this anymore."

"Tristan, I love you."

"You have come here, in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent, silent."

Roxanne straightened up, looking up at him with wife, innocent eyes.

"I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge - in your mind you've already succumbed to me dropped all defences completely succumbed to me - now you are here with me: no second thoughts, you've decided, decided..

"Yes." She mumbled, reaching up to touch his face, turning away and taking a few strides away from him. Listening as he continued to sing.

"Past the point of no return - no backward glances: our games of make believe are at an end." Dancers flooded through, surrounding them and engulfing them. The scene changed, the scrim behind them changed into a crimson coloured world.

"Past all thought of "if" or "when" - no use resisting." Roxanne turned to look at Tristan as he sang. A clear decision needing to be made. "Abandon thought, and let the dream descend. What raging fire  
shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door?" Her blood was racing, these were the lyrics that set her very soul on fire. "What sweet seduction lies before us?"

Tristan took a few, bold, steps towards Roxanne before singing again. Erik's voice was pure gold to her ears. "Past the point of no return, the final threshold - what warm, unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return."

Roxanne began to sing, "You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence." She turned to face him, reaching her hand out, but reeling it back in. "I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining defenceless and silent - and now I am here with you: no second thoughts."

Stepping closer to each other, centre stage she let him catch her. "I've decided, decided."

The lights faded around their blood red scene, the curtains closing as the crowd cheered.

Out in the audience, in Box Five, Montparnasse clapped slowly a grin forming on his lips. He rose suddenly, making quick work of the staircase down into one of the corridors. There were reasons why that box had always been Erik's, just like Antoinette had said. The corridor led backstage, where Montparnasse headed to find Éponine.

But he was not the only one bent of finding one lowly urchin turned star. The ABC Cafe gang had left their seats as soon as the curtain met the stage, making haste to find an entrance backstage. This was their chance to steal her away. During intermission there was so much commotion on either side of the curtain it would be easy to take her.

Her parents had also come, determined to get some cut out of their "star" daughter. In disbelief that it had honestly been her on stage, singing and acting like a professional. The crowd was bulging at the seams, which equalled money in their minds. Money that they deserved.

Erik had visited his Box during one of the longer numbers that he was not part of, finding it occupied by the young fop. Despite wanting to wrap a noose around the young man's throat and emptying him of every last gasp, he resisted and returned to the stage.

"Éponine, bravo." Erik purred into her ear as she turned in his arms to kiss him passionately. "Come, we have time before our appearance in the second act."

"Go where?" Éponine asked, as he pulled her away from the sea of people on the stage. Congratulating them. He wasn't going to let some fool take her away from him again. He was not going to let her out of his sight.

"Erik, Éponine." Antoinette called, seeing the pair disappearing through the crowd of people. She couldn't let them vanish before Montparnasse had a chance to take her. "Wait."

"Ignore her." Erik pressed, continuing to move. "We must hide until it is time to go back on stage."

"Why?"

"The fool 'Parnasse is here, as are the fools that took you from me the first time."

"They came?"

"Don't mistake their appearance as encouragement, I believe they have come for the same purpose."

"Where will we go?"

Erik cautiously looked down the hallway, seeing only a few busy stagehands. "Where no one will suspect." He pushed open the door to one of the unused dressing rooms. It was where the seamstress had her workers busy on costumes when they were being constructed, but not where anyone would expect the star to be.

"They cannot take me." Éponine smiled, resting her arms behind his neck. "I am not theirs to take."

"I love you too much to lose you again." Erik turned to press her against the door.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Éponine grinned mischievously, pressing against him wantonly.

"Yes." He rasped.

Outside the door, Montparnasse roamed the hall, ignoring the meaningless door and searching the Prima Donna dressing room. The ABC Cafe Gang searched the backstage realms. And the Thénardier's searched for the manager to request a meeting with their daughter. Little did any of them realise that the "Phantom" was the handsome male lead that had all of the audience buzzing.

**A/N: First three songs are from Moulin Rouge. Obviously the last is from Phantom. Cheek my profile for the picture of her dress. (:**


	41. Chapter 41

Everyone in the audience had been ushered back to their seats, excluding Montparnasse and the gang from the ABC Cafe. Erik and Éponine slipped out of the spare dressing room, making their way back towards the stage. Act Two, Scene One had begun brilliantly. One of the men that Roxanne had been with had urged a group of men at the Tavern to riot against the young Tristan and to run the beggar out of town.

Act Two, Scene Two Roxanne and Tristan were still in their lover's embrace as the curtain rose.

"Past the point of no return - no going back now: our passion-play has now, at last, begun. Past all thought of right or wrong - one final question: how long should we two wait, before we're one?" Roxanne sang, staring up at Tristan. "When will the blood begin to race the sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames, at last, consume us?"

"Love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong. All you need is love!" Tristan swung her around in his arms. But she shrank away, moving across the stage. The red colours faded as the scrim was lifted and replaced with a pale blue glow.

Roxanne spoke, shaking her head. "Please, don't start that again.."

"All you need is love!" Tristan grabbed her arm as she tried to slip past him.

"A girl has got to eat!"

"All you need is love!"

Roxanne laughed, pushing at his chest, "She'll end up on the street!"

There's a loud commotion off stage that made them both turn to see, breaking character but keeping with the motion.

"Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Éponine asked cautiously, trying to ignore her sudden terror.

"My heart beating for you." Erik grinned, trying to return to his character. What could have made that noise? It sounded like shouting, distant but close enough.

Éponine took a deep breath, returning back to the written dialogue, "The only way of loving my baby, is to pay a lovely fee."

The shouting was suddenly much closer than before. They both turned, again. Now they could see the source of the shouting. A real mob, not the mob that was choreographed to enter and take Roxanne away from Tristan.

"I fear, we have been found." Erik said, trying to maintain character and take her hand. "We must go."

Éponine stared behind Erik as he started to pull her off stage. She could see Montparnasse, Marius, and Enjolras. What were they doing here? Weren't the supposed to be far away or in the audience? Not here, so close to them.

There was a roar as they broke past the chorus girls, chasing after them across the stage. Erik led Éponine behind the scrim, exiting stage left as fast as they could. They ran along the corridor, followed closely by the mob.

Erik pushed open the Prima Donna Dressing Room door, letting Éponine in first before slamming the door shut and pushing a chair in front of it. "Quick, push the mirror."

"Like this?" Éponine pushed at it with no success. Erik jerked towards the mirror, pushing at it frantically. "Why isn't it working?"

"No." Erik growled and turned to look at the door; the weight of the banging was starting to weaken the hinges. "Antoinette, she's changed the mirrors somehow. She's the only one who knew."

"Erik." Éponine gasped as the chair in front of the door started to move, she grabbed his arm. "I can't lose you again."

Erik pulled her towards him, moving his mouth against hers in a soul searing kiss. "I love you more than I ever thought I could. I would rather die than be without you."

The door burst open, the men and Antoinette spilling into the room. They were silent for a split second as they saw the couple sharing what could be their last kiss. Erik turned, pushing Éponine behind him, keeping himself between her and the crowd.

"Let her go, monster." Enjolras snarled, moving towards Erik with a knife held out.

"Enjolras, please don't." Éponine warned, looking around the side of Erik's firm shoulders. He was trembling in fear. He was unarmed and no match for a mob of angry people, bent on separating them.

"We don't want anyone to get hurt," Antoinette said, calmly standing in the door way beside Montparnasse. She was still dressed in the clothes the dancers wore for _Past the Point of No Return_. She seemed giddy with excitement, as the mass of people were all there to remove Éponine from Erik. At this point she didn't care if the dark haired man with the knife killed Erik, if she couldn't have him no one could.

Antoinette pushed through the crowd of shouting men, shushing them as she went. "Now, now no need to cause such a commotion. Take Éponine and leave the man."

"Kill the beast." Marius shouted, moving to be beside Enjolras. The man did not seem as beastly as he thought he had before. His face seemed, normal.

Erik remained as calm as he could, standing his ground and keeping Éponine behind him. "Monsieur, I do believe that you are mistaken. As you see I can give Éponine the chance to leave with you." Erik stepped aside, ready in a split second to step between her and the men.

"I do not want to leave. I am happy here. Happy away from _all_ of you and the life I lead. I'm happy to be in love. Erik and I are to be wed and your intrusion is delaying that."

In one chaotic moment Montparnasse and Marius leapt forward in a vain attempt to grab Éponine, Erik jumped at them, pushing them away just as Enjolras moved forward. As the two men came in contact Erik hissed loudly, pushing Enjolras away.

"Leave this place!" Erik roared, shoving Enjolras back into the crowd. Shielding himself from Éponine he reached down to touch the black material over his stomach. Red. He gulped and looked up at the men, wiping it on his pants and turning back to Éponine. "Leave me if you want."

"I don't want to." Éponine looked up at Erik sadly.

Erik turned back to look at the men, "Go. You've caused enough damage."

Silence.

Antoinette was the first to slip out of the door, followed by the men of the ABC Cafe, Enjolras and then Marius, and finally Montparnasse.

"How did you get rid of them?" Éponine asked, looking up at Erik and seeing sadness in his eyes.

"It's a wonderful thing, love." He arched his neck so he could kiss her. She hadn't seen what had happened. If he acted fast she wouldn't until it was too late, the adrenaline was keeping him fuelled. "Come, you have a wedding to attend."

"Where are we to go?"

"The chapel here at the Opera Populaire, there's a priest waiting for us." Erik reached into his pocket, pulling out a ring.

Éponine's eyes shot open, "That's the most beautiful ring that I have ever seen."

"When you say I do, it will be yours." Erik smiled, trying to keep from weeping. He didn't know how bad he had been hurt, there was blood and pain. He could still move, which was a positive. But for how long? "Come," He took her hand and led her out of the broken door and down the hall. Thanking God with every step that he had managed to save them from separation and begging that God spared them an eternal separation. He was doomed for Hell and she was meant for a higher place.

"This will be my wedding dress?" Éponine laughed as she followed after Erik.

"You do not mind do you?"

"Actually, the seamstress here made me a dress for this occasion."

They didn't have time. "Go, have her dress you quickly. Can't leave the priest waiting." He watched as Éponine darted back down the hall towards the stage. "Éponine, have her bring you to the chapel, I can't see the bride before then."

"I'll see you in a bit," She called back as she slipped back into the door with a grin on her face.

Erik continued to walk towards the chapel, looking down at the wet and shiny stain spreading on his suit. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, holding it over the wound to soak up the blood. He would make it until they were wed.

~o~

Erik stood there in the chapel, beside the priest and anxiously waiting. It had felt like hours since he had last seen her. The pain was growing despite his happy demeanour. He was going to be married and nothing was going to get in his way.

The door opened above the room, light footsteps on the stone stairs could be heard echoing down into the sacred room. He turned to see Éponine in a pure white dress that fit her perfectly and proved that she was heavenly.

"Éponine." He whispered with a smile as she took slow steps to reach the opposite side of the priest she blushed as Erik stared at her.

The priest smiled at the couple. "Join hands and we will begin."

"Erik Destler repeat after me." "I Erik Destler, take thee, Éponine Thénardier to be my wife. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, and I promise my love to you forevermore, till death do us part. To share the good times and hard times side by side. I humbly give you my hand and my heart. As a sanctuary of warmth and peace, and pledge my faith and love to you. Just as this circle is without end, my love for you is eternal. Just as it is made of incorruptible substance, my commitment to you will never fail. With this ring, I thee wed."

"Éponine Thénardier repeat after me." "I Éponine Thénardier, take thee Erik Destler, to be my husband. To have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, and I promise my love to you forevermore, till death do us part. To share the good times and hard times side by side. I humbly give you my hand and my heart. As a sanctuary of warmth and peace, and pledge my faith and love to you. Just as this circle is without end, my love for you is eternal. Just as it is made of incorruptible substance, my commitment to you will never fail. With this ring, I thee wed."

The ring was slipped onto her finger, and the priest announced, "You are now Erik and Éponine Destler, you may now kiss the bride."

"I love you." Erik muttered as he leaned into kiss her. The pain had finally set in and he was fighting to stay upright. "Éponine."He gasped as he leaned against her, the white of her dress marred by the red of his blood. "Help."

Erik collapsed to the cold stone floor. Éponine gasped, leaning down and searching for the wound. "Help, if you are man of God you will fetch a Doctuer. Go!"

She turned back to Erik, cradling his head in her lap. "No. Erik, please stay with me."

**A/N: Check my profile for Eppie's Wedding Dress. **


	42. Chapter 42

It seemed to take the priest hours to fetch a Doctuer. Many had been in the audience that evening, leaving after the impromptu finish and retiring to their houses – wishing to be left alone. Not even a man of God could wake them from their sleep.

Erik was burning hot and trembling as Éponine held his head in her lap. She continually pressed her cool hand against his forehead, trying to cool him down. Despite knowing that he would abhor to be lying there without a covering on his face when someone could easily walk in, she removed the plaster like make-up from his scarred cheek. With timid but nimble fingers she began working on the buttons of his jacket, gasping at the blood that was staining the white shirt crimson.

If there was no one coming to save him she was going to have to do something. She couldn't let him die.

Éponine laid his head back against the cold stone floor carefully, moving around to sit at his side. "Erik," She murmured, kissing his hand. "I'm going to take your shirt off and look at your wound."

He lay unresponsive to her words, the fever that had come along with wound overpowering the once strong man. Hesitantly she began unbuttoning the shirt until she came to the wound. She gasped as she pulled the stained fabric from the opening, the blood making it stick together.

"Lord have mercy on him." She murmured, praying as she looked at the clean entry point of the knife. "God, please. I know neither of us have obeyed any of your laws. He's killed and I have been a prostitute, among other things like lying and stealing. But, please, _please_, Lord don't take him away from me." Éponine choked on her words, swallowing back the lump in her throat. "I love him."

"Épo-" Erik coughed, his eyes fluttering open and then closed.

"Shh," She hushed him, pressing her hand against his bleeding wound. "Just rest, please just stay awake and stay still."

"I-" She held him down as he wearily tried to move.

"The priest, he'll be back soon with a doctuer." Éponine felt tears running from her eyes, "You're going to be okay."

"No." Erik shook his head, fumbling for her free hand, holding it tightly. "I love you."

"Don't you dare make those words sound like good-bye." Éponine snapped, "I'm not done with you."

Erik laughed at her, a smile creasing his dry lips. "That's mon épine."

Éponine turned at the sound of footsteps and whispered voices, the shadows growing closer as they descended the stairs into the chapel. "Joly!" Éponine shouted, seeing a familiar face from the Cafe. "What are you doing here?"

The priest gave a little nod to Éponine, "He was the only person I could find, willing to attend to an injured man."

"I'm a medical student, so don't worry." Joly rushed to kneel on the opposite side of Erik. "This is _him_?"

"What do you mean by him?"

"Éponine." Erik warned, giving her hand a squeeze as Joly began to examine the wound.

"I didn't see you here tonight." Éponine said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Joly laughed slightly as he rustled through his medical bag. "That would be because I do not believe in violence. I work too hard in trying to heal people, why would I want to harm?" He shook his head slightly as he looked at the wound, "A knife?"

"Enjolras." Éponine responded slowly, making his name drawn out. "They came and tried to take me away from him." She held his hand tighter as he let out a painful hiss. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Time will tell." Joly responded as he began to clean away the blood from the wound. "The priest said you were married?"

"We are." Erik said as proudly as he could, his voice hoarse and cracking. "We are."

"I love him, Joly. They don't understand it." Éponine gestured slowly to his face. "They see a monster and I see my husband." She winced as Joly began stitching the wound together with a large needle and thick thread. "Will that make everything better?"

"Ah- no." Joly sat back on his knees, "I can do nothing about any internal damage. Anything the knife may have injured inside is past my skill of expertise. I have seen patients," He glanced down at Erik, "live from similar wounds."

"You don't sound so sure."

"Uhm, Father, would you mind helping me lift this man to that window there." Joly motioned towards the stone seat carved into the night window that was palely illuminated by the moon. Joly and the priest slowly lifted Erik, relocating him to the seat.

"So much for our wedding night," Erik forced a pain laugh from his chest, giving Éponine a fleeting smile. "Come."

Éponine slowly walked after them, wiping her blood stained hand on her already crimson stained wedding dress. "After you've healed, think about our wedding night then." Éponine chuckled, pressing a kiss to his temple. "He's so hot, isn't there anything you can do for him?"

"I would suggest that throughout the night we take shifts and apply cool rags to his brow."

"You'll stay?"

Joly nodded, "The first few hours are crucial."

"I'll go and find water and a towel." Éponine hugged Joly, "Thank you."

"Can't complain about a little extra experience." Joly laughed, giving Éponine a reassuring pat to the back. "You may want to change as well."

Éponine glanced down at the stained dress, thinking that the wedding dress said a lot more than he would realise. It was custom to wear white on your wedding day if you were virtuous, as the tradition said if you were not a virgin when you wed you were to have a patch of red somewhere on your wedding dress. Her dress was stained crimson by the blood of her husband, when in a virgin's would be stained by her own blood when they were married.

But Erik and Éponine were nowhere close to the normal couple. With a little laugh Éponine set off up the stairs. Erik would live, she would be certain of it. He couldn't leave her, not now when she was so certain she had found her lifelong love.

**A/N: Will he live? Will he die? Joly = my love. I just love him for some reason. I always use him in some capacity. **


	43. Chapter 43

Éponine leaned back against the hard stone wall of the window seat, glancing down at where Erik lay. He had been sleeping peacefully, despite her insistent checks to see if he was breathing still. Joly had stayed up half of the night, letting Éponine – unwillingly – rest before she took her shift.

"No more talk of darkness, forget these wide-eyed fears." Éponine sang softly, stroking her fingers through his thick black hair. Erik's lips twitched, a smile forming. "I'm here, nothing can harm you. My words will warm and calm you."

"Éponine."

"Let me be your freedom, let daylight dry -your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you  
and to guide you." Éponine sweetly sang the lyrics, change her position so that she could hold his hand. "Say you love me every waking moment. Turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you need me with you, now and always. Promise me that all you say is true -that's all I ask of you."

"I love you." Erik smiled, trying to sit up but unable to muster the strength. Éponine pushed her hand against his chest, keeping him from rising. "I do not want to die."

"You're not going to die Erik." Éponine reassured herself, more than she reassured him.

"If I die we'll be parted forever."

"But you're not going to die."

Erik squeezed her hand, "Sing for me mon ange. Sing for ce demon."

"You are not a demon Erik. If anyone's an angel you are."

"How do you figure?"

Éponine sighed, "I've never read the Bible, but I've heard that it's true. Gavroche liked to tell us of these stories that he'd learned. I think he went Notre Dame to try to get food, I think priests their tried to teach him when they gave him a meal." Éponine laughed, remembering that feisty little boy. "He said that angels aren't beautiful ethereal beings. They're creatures with many faces, many limbs, engulfed in blazing flames, and more beast than man. Not to say of course that you are a beast, but angels are not what you are imagining. At least that's what Gavroche says.

"Isaiah 6:2. Above it stood seraphim; each one had six wings: with two he covered his face, with two he covered his feet, and with two he flew." Joly said as he rubbed his eyes, awoken by the singing and the talking. "If you're talking about the description of the seraphim angels."

"Yes." Éponine nodded, "I'm telling Erik that he is not a demon and I am no angel."

Joly snorted a laugh, "Trust me, Éponine is no angel."

"Excuse me!" Éponine laughed, kicking her leg playfully at him.

"How is he?"

"He is just fine," Erik replied, turning his head to look at the man that had saved his life. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. How is the pain?"

Erik shrugged, closing his eyes. "I have been through far worse pain in my life. This feels like a kick to my stomach in comparison to a cat o' nine tails."

"I was wondering what the scars were from." Joly stepped closer, examining his most recent wound. "I am surprised that you are still living after the amount of scaring you have from the cat o' nine."

Erik laughed painfully, "I'm damn well hard to kill."

"Because of your face?" Joly asked, shaking his head when Erik nodded in agreement. "No man should be abused for the way he was born."

"But that's all in the past now." Éponine soothed, slipping off of the seat to stand beside Erik. "Because now he is loved for who he is and he's not going to die."

"I might just believe you if you keep saying that."

"I don't think I had the pleasure to introduce myself. I am Joly Bonham, I am a medical student. I am friends with Éponine and the men of the ABC Cafe. You're lucky that the priest found me at such an hour. "

"Joly did not come here tonight to kill you and take me away. He's a pacifist."

"Erik Destler, composer and Opera Ghost. The pleasure is mine." Erik fumbled to cover his bare chest with his shirt, shivering with a chill.

"I was only able to mend the wound, I am not sure what was damaged beneath the skin." Joly thought for a moment, studying the anatomy charts in his mind. "You may be lucky, the blade may have just been right of your internal organs."

"Let us pray that is what happened." Éponine grabbed Erik's discarded coat, laying it over his chest. "If I ever see Enjolras again, I will kill him with my own two hands."

Erik chuckled, reaching for her hand. "That's my Éponine."

"Don't tell him you were the one who helped," Éponine said turning to Joly. "I don't want him to know that Erik is weakened now."

"You have my word, upon the doctor's code of honour." Joly dipped into a bow.

"Thank you."

"You changed," Erik said drearily as he looked Éponine over.

"I couldn't wear that blood soaked dress. I had to clean up so I could look good when you woke up." Éponine retorted with a smirk.

"I'm going to go up top for a little bit, you can come and get me if you need anything." Joly spoke softly as he excused himself from the chapel.

Erik beckoned Éponine to sit beside him, scooting himself closer to the window with a hiss of pain. "I'm fine."

"You need to be careful."

"I just need you."

Éponine laid beside him on the window, her back close to the edge but not mattering to her. "You can't leave me."

"I don't want to." Erik kissed her hand, brushing his cool lips against her fair skin. Éponine leaned towards him, kissing his lips gently, scared to hurt him. She was sure Joly wondered how she loved him, even if he pretended that he didn't. He had seen her lusting after the handsome men that she knew; Montparnasse with his boyish charm and good looks, Marius with his perfect lips and curly hair, even Enjolras and his heroics and dashing features. But here she was married to a disfigured, imperfect man with a grotesquely misshapen cheek with thin skin that showed his blood veins, drooping skin beneath his eye, lumpy swollen flesh, and his uneven lips with the bloated and discoloured upper lip on his disfigured half. But to her he was handsome and beautiful inside and out.

"I love you." Éponine wiped away a tear that slid down her cheek.

"I love you too." Erik pulled her close, making her rest her cheek against his chest.

**A/N: Kind blasé chapter, but oi vey. Also, Joly's surname means "good hearted man" in French (: And Erik said, "my angel... this demon". Bible verse is straight from the Bible. **


	44. Chapter 44

Erik shifted his weight, feeling the dull ache of his injury all too well. Laying flat on a hard slab of solid rock didn't diminish the pain at all, but having Éponine curled beside him made the strongest or the tiniest bit of pain vanish. She had been hesitant about lying on his chest, but she had drifted to sleep only a few minutes after Erik had made her. Just having her there made him feel better; he wanted to stay strong and alive for her.

He let his hand rest on the curve of her hip, drawing little figures against her skin through the material there. This was the closest they would get to intimacy on their wedding night and even weeks after.

Erik doubted that he had been injured internally, he had seen men with stab wounds to their organs and they withered in pain and pitiful moans – neither of which he was doing. He would kill the son of a bastard that ruined their perfect evening.

Éponine shifted, almost on cue of his violent thoughts. Erik continued his gentle rubbing, smiling as she woke up slowly. "Oh, I'm sorry I shouldn't have fallen asle-"

"Don't. I wanted you here, like this." Erik tried to move to kiss her, but was limited by how he was lying there. Éponine chuckled, resting one hand on the other side of his head to push herself up to kiss him. "This might be good for us."

"How so?"

"It could be weeks before I can ravish you again."

Éponine laughed, rising from his chest and giving him a playful smirk. "Even then, it might be me ravishing you."

"I can't lay here anymore, can you fetch him to help take me down to.. Our home. I need my music, I need my bed."

"Yes." Éponine scooted off of the seat and giving him a quick kiss before making quick work of the stairs and appearing above the chapel in search of Joly. She looked both ways for him, not seeing him immediately nearby. "Joly?" She whispered quietly.

Éponine looked closer down the dark corridor, seeing the shape of several chorus girls scurry towards the dormitory after a long night out with patrons. Angry patrons, no doubt. She heard shouting, someone yelling about how the show had gone. Hesitantly, she made her way farther down the corridor – wanting to listen to the conversation.

"It's your entire fault. You've caused this disgrace on the Populaire. You and your jealous and conniving qualities. Ever thought that you might lose your job over this little plan?"

"Please, Jules, please. It's not like that. I never meant to cause this. I just... I just wanted _Him_."

"Of course you did. I suppose your little plotting lover was just for fun?"

"No."

Éponine looked around the corner slowly to see Antoinette cornered by Jules. Jules had a hold of Antoinette's long blond hair, holding her right where he wanted her.

"Then what was he?"

"I had to use him to get him to help me." Antoinette cried, trying to pry herself from his grasp.

"Just like you've used me?" Jules spat, "Oh Jules do this, Jules take this letter, of course I love you Jules. Jules. Jules. Jules."

Éponine gulped as she watched, she didn't care what happened to Antoinette – she deserved whatever she had coming to her. But what was going to happen to the Opera Populaire? There was a full house of adoring patrons who didn't get to see the show finished. They earnings would have had to have been refunded; the press would have been merciless. The Opera Populaire was humiliated in front of so many patrons. All because of one deceitful chorus girl.

Éponine stepped back slowly, careful not to make a sound that would alert them. As she turned she saw Joly, sleeping in one of the chairs from where they had striked the set. She nudged him hesitantly, placing a finger to his lips.

Joly followed her back towards the chapel, "What was the shush for?"

"I didn't want anyone to know I was there."

"Good idea, I'm sure you are both persona non gada right now."

"Joly, please help me go downstairs." While Éponine had been gone Erik had managed to sit himself up, letting his legs hang over the set.

"Pardon?" Joly laughed, giving Éponine a roll of the eyes. "I believe we told you to stay lying down."

"I would like to go down to me home." Erik snapped, tired of being weak and looked after already. "Éponine knows the way."

"I don't think we can carry you up that flight of stairs."

Erik laughed, gesturing towards the unusual stained glass artwork that was against the stone wall. "It is a doorway. I have many ways to the underbelly."

Joly hesitated, "It's not good to move patients-"

"He'll move himself if we don't help him." Éponine replied, moving to study the glass work, pressing against the piece of glass that didn't match the rest. The was a resounding click and the door swung open. "Incredible."

"Come on then," Joly said, as he supported Erik's weight. Erik gasped in pain, but soldiered on. "If you die, it's your own fault."

"Erik, are you sure?"

"Yes. I need my world." Erik flashed her a smile, "I need my music."

~o~

"He's asleep, finally." Éponine said as she walked from the Swan Bed towards Joly. "Thank you for everything tonight, I don't know how I can repay you."

"I learned a lot about working with headstrong patients tonight. Also about working with a living person and not just a cadaver. You've repaid me with new knowledge." Joly gave her a wide grin. "You're happy here? In this labyrinth?"

"I am Joly. I am also unfathomably happy with him."

"What about Marius?"

Éponine sighed, shaking her head. "He only cared about me when I was someone else's. I was never any more than a friend."

"Montparnasse?"

"He was someone to past the time with." Éponine shoved Joly's shoulder, "Are you really going to ask about every man I've ever fancied or been with?"

"I was going to leave me out, but yes I was."

"Please don't bring that up." Éponine shied away, "That feels like a life time ago. All of you feel like so long ago."

"You're a creature of the environment you grew up in." Joly replied, sounding very intellectual about it.

"If you could, send Azelma my love. I'm sure she's taken up my job as well as her own. I just want her to know I'm thinking of her."

"I will." Joly gave her shoulder a squeeze. "I'm glad that you're happy here."

"If the Opera House doesn't sink and will let us go back on stage, I hope you get to come and see a performance."

"If you need me, you know where to find me."

"Thank you," Éponine leaned up to wrap her arms around him.

~o~

Éponine sat at the organ, toying with the keys and plunking out notes occasionally. She wanted to hear Erik playing, but instead she heard the silence of the lair. Of course he was there with her, but sleeping. Was this what the lair felt like for him before she came? Empty and silent.

"Perhaps I had a wicked childhood. Perhaps I had a miserable youth. But somewhere in my wicked miserable past. There must have been a moment of truth. For here you are, standing there loving me. Whether or not you should." Éponine sang quietly, possessed by the music that seemed to charge the air of the lair.

"So somewhere in my youth or childhood I must have done something good. Nothing comes from nothing. Nothing ever could. So somewhere in my youth or childhood I must have done something good."

"Here you are standing here loving me. Whether or not you should."

"Erik!" Éponine gasped, jumping when she heard his voice from behind the closed curtains of the Swan Bed. "You shouldn't strain yourself."

"I just want to hear you sing."

Éponine made her way towards the bed, pulling back the curtains. "Then let me sing, don't you sing. It could cause too much strain."

"Is Joly gone?"

"Yes, another reason why you shouldn't strain yourself. I'd have go and find him if you were hurting."

"Your voice is the only thing that can heal this injured man. You can, because your voice healed my broken soul before."

**A/N: Song from "The Sound of Music". Such a great musical! I hope you're enjoying the story so far. I'm trying to plot and plan more things to happen – especially now that we have already had the big confrontation of the powers that want to take Eppie away. What to do now? **

**The next chapter will probably be flipped ahead a few weeks, Erik's hard to write when he's weak. I don't like weak Erik. **


	45. Chapter 45

**A/N: I must confess I wanted Erik to die SO bad. I wanted Eppie to be pregnant with his child and find out a few months after he had died. I'm heartless. But, I figured this isn't what I want per say – I'm making this like what happened before Christine entered the picture. **

**Anyways on with the story!**

~o~

"Éponine?" Erik called as he looked up from his frantic scribbling on the sheet music she had provided for him earlier that day. It was difficult to compose without his organ close at hand. Of course, Éponine provided his inspiration and tool in most situations but he missed the feel of the ivory keys beneath his fingers. Not to mention that he missed the feel of Éponine's ivory skin beneath his fingers.

"Yes Erik?" Éponine took quick steps towards the Swan Bed, worried that something was wrong. She was still worried every time he made a sound that seemed out of place. It had been nearly three weeks since he had been stabbed. Joly had said he needed to be off of his feet and putting little pressure on the injury for at least a month. Keeping Erik down was like keeping a bird from flight.

"I have a song I would like you to sing," Erik gave her a small smile, knowing he had to be driving her insane with his constant need to hear her sing.

"Let me see." Éponine took the music from his hand, looking over the lyrics. "I'm not sure if I can sing this right now."

"I'm boring you?"

Éponine looked up at him, biting her lip. "No. Not at all. I just don't feel like singing."

Erik stared at her for a long moment before taking the music back. "Of course, of course." He tried to hide the sadness in his voice, masking it with indifference.

"Erik," Éponine rolled her eyes, moving around the Swan Bed to climb into it beside him. "It's not that I don't want to sing, I just don't feel well."

"What is wrong?"

"While you were resting this morning I went up to speak with Lefarve." Erik sat up straighter in the bed, staring at her intently as she spoke. "I should have gone two weeks ago to speak with him, but I was afraid of what I would hear."

"And?"

"The Opera Populaire is in a grave situation right now. Lefarve says that every last payment had to be refunded, meaning that the production was unable to be paid for in any capacity. None of the employees were able to be paid for their work. Half of the stagehands quit last week. He also said that a quarter of his dancers left for Versailles' Opera House."

"All of this because of one meddling bitch?"

Éponine chuckled, "Do not worry Antoinette has been reprimanded daily by everyone who knows her. It's a wonder that Lefarve has not fired her."

"He won't."

"Why not?"

Erik sighed, shaking his head. "When she was my friend and not my enemy I instructed Lefarve that her place in the Opera House was to be set for life. After the Ballet Mistress retires Antoinette will take her place. Dance is her only real talent." He reached and took her hand, "Did Lefarve mention the show?"

"He was overly pleased, except for the unusual part with a mob."

"Will it-"

"No."

"But all of the work, does he not understand the work and the time we put into it!" Éponine placed her hand square on his chest as he tried to get up, and no doubt go to Lefarve to complain. "I am tired of being bed ridden and I'm tired of having to have you take care of me. I should be the one taking care of you."

"In sickness or in health." Éponine replied with a smile, kissing his hand tenderly.

"Do you have any idea how all of this abstinence is effecting me?"

Éponine smirked as she climbed out of the bed, her eyes never leaving his. "I'm sure it's nowhere as bad as me denying you my voice."

"You wound me." Erik's voice sounded gruff as he watched her move around the bed to the side he was on. He was never one to practice control on any aspect of his life. But now he was forced to control his movements, whether he could sing, and whether he could take his new bride. Of course they had been together many times before they were wed, but to him it meant more. It meant that someone was willing to commit their whole life to be spent with him under vows to God and to each other. He was certain that just that knowledge would make being with her even better.

But instead he was bound to a bed and not even in a pleasant way.

"How badly would you like me to sing?" Éponine asked with a seductive tone in her voice.

"I think you like all of this toying with me."

"We both play cat and mouse." Éponine picked up the music, looking over it before glancing at him over the edge of the sheet. "Would you like me to?"

"Yes."

"There is more to love, so much more. Than simply making love. That's easy. Gazing into eyes,  
pretty eyes. Which could be any eyes. That's crazy. Hands are just hands, a face is just a face. They come and go. They're easy to replace. There is more to love, so much more. Than moon-struck escapades. That's nothing."

Éponine looked up at Erik, his eyes were closed as he was enjoying her voice – it made her smile.

"There is peace of mind, so much peace. In quiet company. That's something. Everyone but him  
seems wrong for me. Every time I feel, there has to be. More. If I could hear the music I heard then,  
I'd never let it fade away again." Éponine sat the music down on the bed, "It's beautiful Erik."

"It's how I feel about you, but the melodies were all coming out for a female voice."

"I love you," Éponine leaned towards him slowly, closing the distance between their lips with hesitancy. His music always sprung that fire within her that drove her wild until she could satisfy it. But, she knew this time there was no relief for either of them.

Erik leaned into the kiss, sitting up straighter and wrapped a hand around her waist. It would be so easy for him to pull her into the bed with him and ignore all of her warnings about his injury and throw caution to the wind. However, if he died he would never get to make love to her again – that was worth more than one desperate outlet of his frustration.

Erik was the first to break the kiss, giving her a wry smile that went along with his lust hazed eyes. "After all of this teasing, you're going to pay when I can get a hold of you properly."

**A/N: Song is "There is More to Love" from Aspects of Love. Just another fluff chapter. (: **


	46. Chapter 46

"What are you doing?" Éponine shouted as she climbed out of the gondola and clamouring up the coast to see that Erik was the source of the music, or to be exact the organ that he was skilfully playing. "You're supposed to be in bed!"

Erik ignored her as he finished the final bar of music. He laced his fingers and stretching them out before turning to give her a smile. "I couldn't resist."

"I'm gone for an hour and you're getting up and wandering around?"

Éponine placed her hands on her hips, "Erik Destler."

"Éponine Destler." Erik quipped giving her a mocking glare.

"You need to get back to bed this instant, I can't have you getting hurt."

"I'll only get back in bed if you get in with me."

Éponine rolled her eyes as she moved to stand beside him at the organ, in that familiar spot that she had come to love more and more. "It's not been four weeks yet." She rested her hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle squeeze.

"I feel fine," Erik gave stood on his own, barely using any leverage to get up. "I know what would make me feel better than fine."

"Erik!" Éponine laughed as he tried to pull her to him. "You're not ready!"

"I've been ready since the second you became my wife." Erik smirked, staring down at her with a smouldering glare.

"You are impossible." Éponine smacked her hand against his chest, narrowing her eyes and slowly running her tongue across her lower lip.

"Impossibly h-"

"Shush," Éponine placed her finger on his lip to silence him, shaking her head disapprovingly. "What am I to do with you?"

"You give me your sweet intoxicating body and then expect me to willing give it up?" Erik pulled her close, smiling as she leaned against him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "You can't say you haven't missed me."

Éponine closed her eyes and taking a deep breath, "Every second of every day." She gasped when his lips met hers; it felt like so long since she had felt a sensual kiss and not a simple everyday greeting. Her hands instantly went into the long forgotten mode of fumbling at the buttons of his shirt, running her fingers through his thick well-needing-a-tousle hair, and pressing her hips into him eagerly.

Erik pushed her back against the organ, his hand ran down the curve of her back, over her bum and pulling at her leg. He lifted her gracefully to perch on the edge of the organ, grinning into her lips as she wrapped her leg around his hips. He had missed the equal passion that they shared.

It wasn't how he had planned their first time together as man and wife, but the best laid plans didn't always have to happen. He needed to be with her.

~o~

Éponine opened her eyes groggily, realising she was resting her cheek against Erik's chest. The slow and steady breaths he took lulled her to stay asleep, stay curled against his body, and sink back to the peaceful afterglow sleep. But, she knew she should get up and do something productive. The lair had nothing productive to do. She had learned that the hard way over the last three weeks while the lair was empty and musicless. There was nothing to do in this world but make music and _make music_.

Erik groaned as she uncoiled herself from him, their legs tangled together in a surprisingly comfortable position. "Éponine." He hissed reaching for her with closed eyes. "Come back."

"There are things to be done."

"Like sleep," She glanced over his shoulder to meet his emerald green eyes that were shining brightly. "Please, I have not got such sound sleep in weeks."

Éponine relented, unable to ignore his wide, pleading eyes. "Only for a little while. Our lunch is over in the gondola still."

Erik smirked, tugging her back towards him. He inwardly wished he had told her to change the side of the bed they were lying on. She had nowhere to look but as his deformed face. Éponine leaned up and kissed that cheek like it were any smooth, handsome cheek. "How is you wound?" She smoothed her hand over the puckered skin where he had been stabbed, sliding her hand back up to rest on his chest.

"I am fine," Erik replied, "It only felt tense a few times this afternoon. But, it's fine now." He snaked his arms around her, pulling her close. He met her worried gaze and laughed, "I am fine."

"I do not want to have to call upon Joly to come and check you and explaining that I couldn't control myself and gave into your desires."

"You cannot blame me for wanting to make you my wife. That's a privilege I never imagined myself having." Erik pressed a kiss into her shoulder, "You do not understand how it feels."

"I do," Éponine nodded her head as she draped her arm over his chest. "My life was decided for me long before I could even think about it. "I was a 'whore' and always would be a 'whore'. That was what my parents wanted out of me."

"Not any longer," Erik kissed her lips slowly, tenderly. "You're my wife now. My Éponine." Those words made his heart swell with passion that not even his music could match. "I love you."

"I love you as well," Éponine replied with a smile as she cupped his cheek and pressed their foreheads together. "I love you so very much."

~o~

Antoinette sat on her bed in the crowded dormitory writing a letter with great thought and method to it. This would be the last thing Jules would ever have of her. He was leaving her and the Opera House. Leaving her with a child. Leaving her because she had betrayed his trust in more than one way. A tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away before it fell onto her letter.

Éponine would pay for this chaos she had caused.


	47. Chapter 47

Éponine covered her eyes as Joly worked on removing Erik's stitches. Erik didn't seem bothered at all, it was Éponine who was gasping and groaning at the thought.

"I'm finished," Joly announced glancing over his shoulder at Éponine. "He's good as new now."

"I've been good as new for a week," Erik rose to his feet, checking his mask's placement. He hadn't chosen to use the paste today, Joly would only be there for a little while and he had seen him without a mask before. It was more for his self-conscious comfort than for anyone else. He was comfortable without his mask around Éponine, but not the rest of humanity.

"Yes, but now you're medical student approved good." Joly quipped as he packed up his medical kit. "If you have any more issues you know where I am."

"Actually, I had a question." Éponine said quietly, glancing between Erik and Joly. She wanted to ask Joly in private, but she knew it would only irritate Erik. He wasn't very good with secret conversations. "It's rather personal, but I just wanted to ask."

"What's wrong?"

Éponine took a deep breath and leaned against Erik as he wrapped a protective arm around her waist. "I was pregnant a few months ago. I had a bad fall down a flight of stairs and I lost the baby, I was only three months and just beginning to show." She tensed at the painful memory. "I am just curious about whether or not I'll be able to bare another child. There were women, like me, and they would throw themselves down stairs to rid themselves of children and they never bore a baby again."

"Éponine," Erik soothed, pressing a kiss against her temple as gently as he could with his mask obscuring his lips.

"I would say that your chances are less likely now, it's not healthy for your body to have any eternal injury like that. But I've seen women have many children after miscarriages." Joly answered as best he could, seeing the obvious worry in the couple's eyes.

"What about?" Erik gestured towards his ruined cheek, not daring to speak the words.

"I wouldn't know, honestly birth defects like that are not frequently hereditary but they can be. It varies."

"Thank you," Éponine replied, giving Erik a silencing glance. "We appreciate everything you've done for us."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you're happy."

Once Joly was gone Erik turned to Éponine, "Is there a chance?"

"I don't know, I don't want to get hopes up."

"Do you want to be?" Erik asked, placing his hands on either of her shoulders, massaging her tense muscles. Éponine only nodded, biting her lip hesitantly. "I've been thinking about being a father."

"And?" Éponine reached up to unlace his mask, letting it slip from his face carefully.

"I would like it I think. I can picture this world filled with the laughter of children."

"Child_ren_?" Éponine gasped with a chime like laugh, but her expression quickly fell serious. "Even if the child is born like you?"

"The child would never be without love." Erik leaned towards her and pressed his lips against hers passionately. "You have showed me love that I never imagined I was worthy of. You would be the mother to a child like me that I wish I would have had." Her lips were back on his, enjoying his slow pressing and teasing against her lips with his tongue, begging for entrance that she readily accepted. Éponine let the mask drop to ground as he lifted her effortlessly.

"This never gets old," Éponine purred as she tugged at his shirt and ran her fingers across the intricate patterns of scars. "This will never get old."

Erik pushed her back on the bed, chuckling as she pulled him down on top of her. "I love you more than those words can explain." His hands greedily pushed her dress up, his hands gliding against her sensitive skin as their mouths moved passionately.

~o~

Antoinette stepped inside of the office, eyes never looking up from the floor. She couldn't believe she was really following through with this devious plan.

"You wrote to me?"

Antoinette nodded, glancing up at the looming figure in the office. "Yes Inspector Javert," She licked her lips trying to urge her lips to work. "I need her taken away Opera Populaire."

"I do not frequently assist in kidnapping women," Javert added slowly with his lips pursed, "But you know the accurate whereabouts of Prisoner 24601 and for that I am indebted to you."

"Thank you Inspector," She replied, gripping the back of the chair to hold herself up. She felt sick and ashamed of herself for going this far to have Erik. But she didn't care anymore. "Come to the Populaire at noon today, she has an appointment with Lefarve that she will not be making."

"I will be there." Javert tipped his head down, "I have sent my men to the Rue Plumet to see if your tip was accurate."

"It is." Antoinette mumbled, biting her lip as she waited in awkward silence for Javert's men to return with news. It felt like hours but it was not even an hour when the men returned with Jean Valjean in their custody.

"I will repay you for your help." Javert said, motioning for Antoinette to leave.

"Thank you."

~o~

Éponine pried herself away from Erik, dressing quietly as he slept in the blissful afterglow of their lovemaking. No matter how much he protested that he was more than better he still seemed tired more than normal. She pressed a kiss to his temple as she pulled her caplet around her shoulders and left their bedroom.

She had a meeting with Lefarve about the plans for the Opera House that she didn't want to bother Erik with yet. He would blame himself for anything bad that happened to the Populaire. This afternoon seemed like every other afternoon above the Populaire underworld. The dancers were in rehearsals and the hallways were empty.

Éponine never saw it coming. A hand covered her mouth, she tried to scream but it was muffled by the handkerchief in the gloved hand. She realised too late that the handkerchief was doused with some sort of substance that made her vision blur and the world fade out of sight.


	48. Chapter 48

**A/N: This chapter jumps. A lot. Hold on for the ride. **

"Where am I?" Éponine's voice cracked as her eyes drew open, blinded by bright sunlight streaming in the carriage window. Her head was splitting and spinning and with each bump of the wheels her stomach turned violently.

There was a gentleman sitting across from her with a blank expression, "You are being taken away from Paris."

"Why?" Éponine groaned, covering her eyes and sitting up slowly. "Where's Erik?"

"You won't be seeing him again." He replied coldly, staring out the window.

"I'll go back to him. I'll find him."

"It is my orders to stay with you in an English manor house until I am informed otherwise."

Éponine glanced out the window, "Where am I?"

"Nearly to England," The man turned to look her in the eyes. "You are four days away from Paris."

"You drugged me or something." She rubbed her head slowly, trying in vain to dislodge the fog from her mind. "Take me back."

"I'm sorry but that is impossible."

"Erik," She felt tears spill from her eyes as she buried her face into her hands. "This is Antoinette's doing. I know it. She's taken me from him before and she can't do it again!"

~o~

Éponine never returned from her outing. Erik began worrying when the clock struck eight o'clock in the evening and he had seen no sign of her. It wasn't like her to leave and not tell him she was going to be gone all day. He had gotten accustomed to her leaving on errands while he was unable to get out of bed, but this didn't seem like that.

Erik left the underbelly in an unsuccessful search of Éponine. She was nowhere to be found. No one had seen her.

"Antoinette," He growled as he found the ballerina walking down the corridor the next morning. "Where's Éponine?"

"I haven't seen her Erik," She replied coldly. "I got the message."

"She's gone."

"What?" Her tone was genuinely shocked, despite knowing exactly what had happened to her.

"I have not seen her for an entire day."

"Perhaps she finally tired of your insufferable behaviour." Antoinette snapped trying to move away from him, but he thwarted her efforts. "Leave me alone Erik!"

"Where is she?"

"I do not know." Antoinette stared at him for a moment before pushing past him. "I'm sorry but I don't know."

Erik slammed his fist against the wall, sinking to his knees.

Éponine was a prisoner in her new lonely life. Her time was spent sitting alone in her grand bedroom and wondering how long it would take for her to die from the ache in her soul. She was far from the only person who would ever hold her heart and separated for who knew how long. But that was not the only thing she faced.

Two months into her imprisonment she began to feel like she had when she was first take from Erik. That full feeling in her lower belly that coincided with her absent cycle. A child, like Erik had wanted. Like they had talked about before this transpired. She would raise the child alone and without its father. Without her husband, without her soul.

Her unnamed warden lived like a ghost inside the manor. She saw him warily, only enough to know that he was still there. Servants silently tended to her every need, becoming increasingly more frequent as her stomach began to swell in time.

Éponine wouldn't let anything happen to this baby this time around. Her last connection to Erik until she could find a way back to him. If she could find a way back to him. Time seemed to be moving along steadily without any hope of finding him or being found. Was he even looking for her? Did he even know where to begin?

Nine months into her forced stay she gave birth to a healthy baby boy. He was a beautiful child, perfect and handsome; the exact image of his father if Erik had had two normal cheeks. Despite all of their fears his disfigurement did not seem to be one that passed into their child. Not that Erik even knew that he had a son somewhere in the world. His son.

"Erik," She murmured showering her infant with little kisses as the servant girl wiped her sweaty brow with a cool rag. "That's his name. After his father."

"What will his middle name be?"

"Erik Gabriel Destler," Éponine whispered to the baby, smiling down into the infant's shining green eyes. "If you only your father were here."

The servant gave her a weary smile, as she cleaned up the ruined clothes and stained sheets. There was nothing she could do to help the woman and the baby. Direct orders from the man that supported the staff were to have limited conversation and offer no assistance unless it was health related. This was Éponine and her child's home until whatever power that was decided to release her.

~o~

Erik had spent his time like a mad man composing music and laying waste to his once beautiful home. Antoinette had resumed her visits, cheeking to make sure the suicidal man had not ended his life. He had lost hope in finding Éponine, she had vanished without any trace.

Everything good she had made him into was gone with her. Erik killed again and again. Anyone who angered him met a quick end. The feeling of ending life once again mesmerized Erik. He was unstable with his support.

Antoinette tried to be there for him when she could. But raising her daughter Megan and caring for a deranged murderer was difficult when he did not want her help. She promised him that with time it would get better. That he would forget about his missing wife and learn to live as he had before she had ever appeared.

Erik couldn't fathom a life without Éponine.

Or ten long years without her.

Time had faded into what felt like a lifetime without her. Her memory had faded into a distant afterthought as he began to train the newest student of the Opera House. She was young, only eight, when he had begun her training two years ago. She was a thin, fragile, brunette girl that was the daughter of a famous Danish violinist. He chose to tutor her, rather than Antoinette's daughter Meg in an act of spite. She was a child, like a daughter to him. The daughter that he had never been given in life.

But she could never replace what he could have had with Éponine.

"Erik," Éponine called as she strolled down the corridor of her wing of the manor, hearing the soft chiming sound of someone playing out a note at a time on a piano. "Where are you dear?"

"Mum, I'm in here." The young boy called, popping his head out from the room he had been in. "I'm reading."

"What were you reading?" Éponine asked as she walked into the small library that held only a few volumes and a pianoforte.

"I was reading..." The dark haired boy looked around frantically, seeing if he had left a volume out from one of his other trips to the library. "I was, um."

"Playing the pianoforte?"

"Yes. The music it makes is beautiful. There isn't enough music in this place, it's so vast and empty."

Éponine smiled sadly, finding the young boy so shockingly like the man he had never known. "One day we will leave," She spoke softly, beckoning the boy to come and sit on her lap as she leaned back in the armchair. "I want to take you to Paris." Her heart and soul belonged there.

"You've been saying that since I can remember." Erik replied, as he nimbly climbed onto her lap. "I've never been outside these walls, save for the balcony a few times."

"One day dear, one day." Éponine pressed a kiss into his cheek, laughing at the charming smile he gave her in return. "You are so much like your father."

"What was he like?"

Éponine felt the dull ache in her heart when she tried to remember him. It had been so long that his memory had become like a faint dream as it crept from your mind after you awoke. "He was everything to me. He was kind and handsome despite being ruthless and hideous."

"That doesn't make any sense." Erik replied dryly, giving her a confused look that only little boys could produce.

Éponine laughed softly, "It makes perfect since if you knew him."

"In books people know their fathers. Why isn't he here? Did he die?"

"I don't know where he is anymore." She kissed his head again, wrapping her arms around him and trying to keep herself from crying.

~o~

"Antoinette please escort Miss Christine back upstairs."

"Thank you sir," The young girl said with a wide grin on her face. "Did I do well today?"

"You are improving." Erik replied as he stacked his sheet music neatly atop his organ. "Have a good rest of your evening."

Madame Giry motioned for Christine to follow her and Meg from the lair, "Go wait by the gondola, I need to speak with your tutor." Meg and Christine exchanged a fleeting glance and continued on towards the coast.

"What do you want?" Erik gritted, keeping his back to her.

"Are you interested in teaching Meg, she has a good voice that just needs some tutoring."

"No."

"But why Christine?"

Erik took a deep breath, "Meg will never have my guidance because she is your bastard child. Christine is a parentless child who needs something good in her life."

"You are prejudice against Meg because of a mistake I made ten years ago?"

"Don't pretend that you do not know what happened to Éponine all those painful years ago." Erik roared in one slurred sentence. "Ten long years I have made love to the ghost of the only woman I will ever love!"

"Erik you over react. I am sure she is somewhere safe and fine." Antoinette replied, gasping when she realised what she had said.

"You know where she is?" Erik grabbed her shoulder and jerked her towards him, his menacing green eyes piercing her. "Where is she?"

Antoinette turned away, "It was a long time ago Erik."

"Where is she?"

"England."

"Ten years? Ten years!" Erik grabbed her as she tried to get away, shaking her. "Why would you do this to me?"

"Because!" She snapped, "You never cared about me."

"Tell me where she is."

"There is a manor in Chester, it's secluded and she's there." Erik shoved her away from him as she began to cry. "I told you where she is!"

"Leave now." Erik snarled.


	49. Chapter 49

Éponine tucked Erik into his bed, pressing a kiss to his sleepy face, "Sleep well tonight. I'll see you in the morning."

"Can you sing me a lullaby?"

Éponine sank down on the bed beside him, "What would you like to hear me sing?"

"The pretty one you sing, about thinking."

"Think of Me?" She asked with a teasing smile, tapping Erik on the nose and winking at him. "Think of me, think of me fondly. When we've said good-bye. Remember me, once in awhile please promise me you'll try." Her voice was soft and calming, "Then you'll find that once again you long. To take your heart back and be free. I you'll ever find a moment spare a thought for me."

Éponine couldn't help but feel the heartbreak in the song. She had come up with song when Erik was just beginning to show in her stomach. "We never said our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea. But if you can still remember, stop and think of me." The dreamy smile on her son's face was enough to set her heart straight.

"Think of all the things we've shared and seen. Don't think about the way things might have been. Think of me, think of me waking. Silent and resigned. Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind." Every night she thought about the man who could fill the empty side of her bed. She would wake with a startled scream as she realised that the side of the bed that would be his was cold and bare. The bed was not their bed.

"Recall those days, look back on all those times. Think of those things we'll never do. There will never be a day when I won't think of you."

The young boy lay still, swept into peaceful child-like slumber by his mother's soothing song. He thought it was a beautiful melody while she thought it was a heartbreaking prayer. Éponine spent ten years making sure she never cried in front of her son. She had to be strong in the imprisonment. Erik had to lead the most normal life she could offer him from within her jail cell.

"Come back to me." Éponine stared up at the ceiling, begging silently that God would let the man she loved find his way to her again. Ten years had not made any hope fade.

~o~

The day starts, the day end. Time crawls by. Night steals in, pacing the floor. The moments creep,  
yet I can't bear to sleep. Till I hear you sing. And weeks pass, and months pass. Seasons fly. Still you don't walk through the door. And in a haze, I count the silent days till I hear you sing once more." Erik sang softly to himself as he sat inside of the carriage that was destined for the boarder to bring him closer to wherever Éponine had been hidden away.

And sometimes at night time. I dream that you are there. But wake holding nothing but the empty air. And years come, and years go. Time runs dry. Still I ache down to the core. My broken soul can't be alive and whole. Till I hear you sing once more." So many nights he had spent longing to be in her arms again. He killed to feel that ecstasy that he felt when they died. But the ecstasy could never replace the fierce passion he felt all of those years ago with Éponine. She was the only thing that had ever been good in his life. The only thing that had ever set him straight.

"And music, your music. It teases at my ear. I turn and it fades away and you're not here. Let hopes pass, let dreams pass. Let them die! Without you, what are they for? I'll always feel, no more than halfway real. Till I hear you sing once more."

Erik fisted his hands in his hair, he had lost his mind. He had never felt so crazed before Éponine was taken from him. Not even the abuse from the fair and driven him this insane. What would happen to him if she had moved on?

~o~

Erik accomplished the journey in a week's time, arriving in the sleepy country setting of her prison. The house was a stately manor that was well kept and handsome. Erik slipped past the gate keeper's house, approaching the manor house cautiously. He couldn't exactly walk up to the front door and knock on it like any other human being. A mask or a disfigured head was what no one wanted at their doorstep.

There was a second story balcony window left open that called to him as an open invitation. With agile skill he managed to clamour up the side of the stone walls, reaching for the ledge of the balcony and hauling himself over.

The room was an empty bedroom, left as thought the occupant had just left for breakfast that morning. He looked around the room slowly, looking for any clue of Éponine's presence. It could be the room of any woman.

He turned towards the door, hearing the faint sound of music through the mahogany door. Erik snuck from the bedroom, cautiously looking both ways down the corridor as he shut the bedroom door behind him quietly. The music and laughter was coming from a room down the hallway.

With cautious steps he made his way towards the room, hesitant to discover what lay inside. He leaned against the wall, looking around the doorframe to spy on the occupants. He could only see a limited view into the room. There was a young boy sitting at a pianoforte, playing as well as a young untrained boy could perform.

Erik darted back around the door frame when the boy met his eyes. "Mother I just saw a man.."

"It was probably only a servant." Came the cool response to the child's nervous question. Erik wasn't sure if the voice was hers. It sounded so familiar and it warmed him with hope. But he almost couldn't bear to look and see, to reveal himself. The child only seemed to be a seven or eight and Christine had been gone for ten years. Unless she had found someone after she was taken, it was impossible.

"I know I saw a man, mother." The little boy insisted, trying to persuade his mother into believing him. "I saw a flash of white on his face."

"A flash of white?" The woman responded with a laugh. "What are you imagining dear?"

"A mask."

Erik could hear and audible gasp come from the room.

"Do not pretend to see men wearing mask's Erik! Or I will no longer tell you those stories."

His breath hitched in his throat when she heard the woman say his name, the boy's name. It was Éponine. But he was paralyzed by the fear of finding her. The fear of telling her what he had done in her absence, the man he became as soon as she was gone.

"I saw him! I did!"

"Erik," her tone was angry at him.

"You have an imagination." Erik looked around the door frame, seeing that Éponine was pointing her finger at the boy.

"There!" He shouted seeing the masked man around his mother. "I saw him I did!"

Éponine was frustrated with his determined imagination. She marched across the room towards the door, "I will show you that there is no one-" the last word was silently formed on her lips as she found herself standing face to face to a masked man.

"Éponine." Erik's voice warmed, his bottom lip quivering as they stared at each other.

"No." Éponine felt her heart skip a beat or two or more, her breath caught somewhere inside of her. "You can't be-" She reached out hesitantly to touch his porcelain mask. It was no longer the imaginary man that she dreamed about at night but woke to find gone in the light of day. He was real, he was beneath her fingers. "Erik."

He stepped towards her, engulfing her in his arms and burying his face into her wild brown mane of hair. Breathing in that scent that he had longed to breath for ten long years. "Éponine."

"I've prayed everyday for you to find me again." Éponine whispered, unable to form loud words. She stared into his emerald eyes, eyes that she had seen ever day in the face of her son – their son.

"Mother?" Erik asked running up to see where his mother had disappeared to behind the doorframe. "Get off of my mother!" The young boy snapped, kicking the masked phantom's leg. Misinterpreting her crying and clutching to him as her efforts to get away.

"No, no, no!" Éponine shouted, pulling away and kneeling down to her son's height. "Don't hurt him dear. You know that one question you always asked me that I could never answer?" The little boy nodded his head, glancing up towards the masked man.

"Éponine?" Erik asked as he stared down in the dark haired boy's eyes and seeing a reflection of himself in the beautiful child's face. "My God."

"Your son." Éponine smiled, feeling a tremble shake her body as she looked at the invisible bond between the boy and his father. "Your father."

"No! He's not my father. I don't want a father." The boy shouted, rushing past them and darting down the corridor.

The words broke Éponine's heart as her dream was crushed. She knew that the longer they did not meet, the harder it would be for him to be accepted. She glanced towards Erik, unable to control herself from throwing her arms around him and never letting go.

"Éponine." Her looked up towards her slowly, "A son?"

"When I was kidnapped I was pregnant. Pregnant with _our_ son." She glanced down the hall towards where he had run off. "He'll warm to you. He's not used to the idea yet. He's like you he doesn't always think everything through. He's afraid of change."

"My son?" Erik tried to keep himself from weeping at those words. He finally had a child that was his. He had been denied ten years of the child's life. Denied those crucial years to bond with the child, to hold him in his arms. "You named him Erik?"

"The only thing I had left of you."

"You had my heart." Erik pulled her towards him, needing to feel her in his arms. Ten years evaporated as they held each other. "I was going to run. I thought you had moved on. He's so small."

"He's lived his life in this home. He's not experienced anything that children should be allowed to. He's a frail creature when he wants to be." Éponine nestled her cheek against his chest, listening to his heartbeat beneath her ear. "You're here."

"I am." Erik replied, yearning to kiss her lips again. A sensation he had longed for every waking and sleeping moment of his life. But how could he kiss without letting her know what kind of man he was now?

"What's wrong?" Éponine asked, feeling him tense beneath her cheek. "I promise you he is your son."

"I don't doubt that. His eyes, his hair-"

"His musical inclination." Éponine stared up into Erik's face, rising up on her toes to press her lips against his. Erik jerked away, "Erik?"

"I can't Éponine."

Her face fell, "If you have found someone else then why are you here?"

"It's not that!" Erik gasped ashamed that she could even picture him moving on from her. "No. I couldn't. But.."

"What is it?"

Erik looked around the hallway, shaking his head in shame. "I am the man you didn't want me to become." He stared down at his gloved hands, remembering how many times he had tried to clean his hands from the red stains that only he saw. His hands were covered in new scars from the times he rubbed them raw in his attempts.

"Tell me."

"I do not deserve a handsome son." Erik felt a tear slide down his cheek. "Éponine, I have killed."

"Oh Erik." He expected her to be repulsed, the years to have changed her kind spirit towards his crimes. "My poor Erik." Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into her arms and making him to bury his face into her hair.

"I have killed for fun. I killed to pass the time. To try to remove the pain." Erik wept into her hair clutching at her like a scared child.

Éponine pressed a kiss into the top of his head, knowing how to sooth a child who had woken from a nightmare. Erik seemed to be no different in that aspect. The thought of him murdering for fun terrified her. He had changed in ten years. Everyone changed in time. Erik was already an unstable individual, a creature of his upbringing.

"I love you." She whispered as he held to her and her hands tried to sooth his pain. "You're not a monster Erik."

"I am. I am a rabid dog that deserves to have a bullet put between his eyes." Éponine gasped at his response.

"I'm here now Erik."

Erik pulled away from her, staring down at her tear stained face. "How can you accept me? I have murdered and maimed for fun and I am not worthy of you. I'm not worth of your love." The agony he had kept unexpressed poured from him as he released it all. "I tried to kill myself so many times. One new scar after another added to the never ending numbers that litter my body."

"Erik!" Éponine covered her mouth as she looked at the delirious man. "If you were gone my life wasn't worth living." He crumpled to his knees, sobbing into his hands. He was a broken man, shattered into pieces by the cold life he had lived.

She was speechless as to what to say to right this wrong. There was no way to take away the pain he had been forced to deal with. Erik was such a fiercely passionate man that it came as no surprise how destroyed he had become.

"If you say that I revolt your more than before. I'll leave. I'll go." He clutched her hands in his, shaking them as he spoke hysterically. "Just say the words."

Éponine shook her head, prying a hand from his. She saw him flinch as she reached out to stroke his cheek. "Stay." She whispered as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his trembling misshapen lips. It had been ten painful years since they last shared a kiss.

Erik was hesitant to respond to the kiss, afraid that it could all be a delirious dream. But her slow movements and gentle coaxing soon enticed him respond. It was slow at first, remembering that intoxicating feel of her lips against his. His mask limited his range of movement, keeping his kisses softer and denying him a truly deep and passionate kiss. In some sick way he figured it was the world telling him he didn't deserve that after every wrong he'd done.

"I love you." He breathed as they broke apart.

"I love you too," Éponine pressed a kiss to his lips again as she pulled him up to his feet. "Come we shouldn't be out here in the open. I don't want a servant to find you. You can hide in my room, they hardly bother me in there anymore."

"Your room" Erik followed after her, trying to take everything in. The room he had climbed in through turned out to be her room after all and not just some random woman's room. Éponine motioned for him to sit down on the bed, moving to sit beside him.

"Is there anything I could get for you?" Erik shook his head, "Relax." Éponine could see the primal and animalistic side of Erik that she had glimpsed the first time she met him. "Kick off your shoes and just relax."

Erik leaned down to untie his shoes, letting them slide off of his feet with a plop as they hit the floor. He looked back up at Éponine, giving her a small smile that was obscured by his mask. He was sure that was the next thing she would want removed. But he wasn't letting it go until she was ready to see his hideous face again.

Éponine stared at him trying to figure out what to say and what to do next. She felt the hesitancy radiating from him, the fear and the distress of it all bleeding from his skin. She stood up in front of him, pushing his jacket from his shoulders and staring him in the eyes. She wanted the passionate and determined man to be there and not this injured man. He had reverted back in ways to that man she had first met.

Her hand went to his mask, pressing her hand against it as she reached for the double knotted lace behind his head. She tugged at the laces before they finally gave and the mask fell into her open palm. His eyes closed, expecting her to be horrified by the vivid image of it that her memory may have obscured. But instead he felt the shower of kisses she placed on the long untouched flesh.

"Éponine." He groaned as she pressed a kiss into his eyelid. "Please don't ever leave me again."

"I didn't want to leave you this time." She kissed the corner of his lip gently, before he pulled her towards him so she landed on his lap. "It's been so long Erik." She murmured, wrapping her arms around him and burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. He stroked her back slowly, pulling the gloves from his hands. He didn't want her to see the damage he had done to his already scarred hands, but he knew she would see eventually.

"Oh how I've missed you," Erik said softly, pressing kisses into her neck. "I would dream that you and I were making love to each other and I would awake finding nothing but my sheets and pillows. Making love to the ghost of you."

"I did too," Éponine replied with a shy laugh, feeling her cheeks heat up. "I dreamed of you so often that I didn't believe you were standing in front of me."

"Do you believe that I am here now?" Erik asked, his words husky as he nipped at her ear lobe.

"Yes." Éponine scooted farther up his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I _feel_ that you are very real."

Erik was about to press a molten hot kiss into her lips when there was an echoing knock on her door. "Éponine, I have brought your new dress."

"Oh." Éponine gasped, quickly scrambling off of Erik's lap and trying to compose herself, "One moment please." She turned to him, silently motioning for him to move behind her changing screen as she kicked his shoes beneath her bed and hid his jacket and mask beneath her pillows. "Come in Charity."

The maid entered caring an elegantly wrapped box, "Here is your new dress." Charity moved towards the changing screen but Éponine intercepted her, taking the box from her hands.

"Tell him I am appreciative."

"May I see it on you?" Charity asked hopefully, "I have been wondering what it looks like."

"Yes." Éponine smiled moving to unwrap the box at the table, revealing a beautiful forest green dress, "It's beautiful."

"Try it on." The maid pressed, giving her a wide smile. Very little ever happened around the house.

"Of course." Éponine took the dress and walked behind her changing screen. She met Erik's gaze, giving him a nervous smile as she began to undress slowly. "It's perfect for the season," She said as her cream coloured dress fell from her shoulders in a puddle on the floor. Erik couldn't help but survey the skin he had longed to see for so many years.

"Does your chemise work? Dress styles are changing so frequently that it's hard to tell whether it will work without a new one made."

"No. But the dress will work fine with only pantaloons." Éponine replied, glancing at Erik hesitantly as she pushed the chemise from her shoulders, leaving her bare from her midriff up. She could feel Erik's hungry eyes taking in her newly revealed skin, making her feel alive. "It's quite beautiful, I hope it looks well on me."

Erik smiled at her, trying to keep quite as she raised her arms to pull the dress on over her head. He couldn't complain about the view he was getting. Éponine smoothed her hands over the material, before glancing over her shoulder and quickly planting a kiss to Erik's lips before she was revealing her new dress for Charity to admire.

"It's beautiful!"

Éponine smiled, "Thank you."

Charity gave a short curtsey, "I'll let you enjoy the rest of your morning."

"You as well," Éponine replied softly waiting until the servant had shut the door behind her to laugh. "Erik, come out."

Erik looked around the changing screen with a wry and seductive look on his face. "You look gorgeous." Éponine closed the space between them, leaning up to press a kiss against his starving lips. "Make me forget Éponine."

"I will try my best."


	50. Chapter 50

Erik wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest. He never wanted to let her go again. If they stayed like this, entwined in each other's arms with their limbs tangled together, who would be able to separate them? Éponine shifted in his arms so she could be face to face with him. Dislodging her arm from somewhere in the tangle and cupping his disfigured cheek. For now they could forget about everything that had happened in ten years. The only thing that mattered was that they were together again.

Erik closed his eyes, enjoying her gentle caress that he had longed to feel. He had longed to feel so much that was Éponine. Erik moved his hand beneath the covers to rest on her hip, stroking the skin their gently. She winced, a little gasp of pain escaping her lips.

"What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," Éponine lied, biting her lip. His piercing gaze was too much to stare at and lie. "Honestly it's nothing. You have a strong grip and there was nothing gentle about our reunion."

"I've hurt you," Erik's expression dropped from loving and blissful to grave in a matter of seconds. "I'm sorry."

"Its fine," Éponine laughed softly, brushing her finger tips through his hair. She had noticed that in ten years the hair had begun to thin on the disfigurement side. "Love marks."

Erik didn't laugh at her playful remark, "These hands can only hurt."

"Erik," Éponine begged, grabbing his hands forcibly and looking at them. The scars were far worse than they had been before. He inflicted so much damage on his talented hands. They had only had a few scars before, attempts to stop the Cat o' Nine Tail in the past. Now, she couldn't even begin to conceive that these were his hands. There was hardly any skin that wasn't the shiny pink puckering skin. "Oh, Erik."

"The hands of a murderer."

Éponine shook her head, pressing her lips into the knuckles and letting her lips brush the skin. "The hands of my husband." Her fingers slipped between his, pressing their hands together and holding them tight.

"Why do you love me?" Erik asked, his eyes fixated on the ring she still wore.

"I love you," Éponine said softly, "That's all I can say. I can't explain it, but it's there in side my heart."

"I could have been better. I lost it when you vanished. I became a murderer that deserves no compassion from anyone." Éponine frowned, scooting forward towards him and pressing her lips into his hands. She would never feel afraid of him. Even if he had murdered and hurt himself she knew he would never intentionally harm her. A few bruises in the throes of passion were nothing.

"How does it not bother you?" Erik asked as he broke away from the kiss. "No matter how many times you hear that I have killed you don't seem afraid."

"Because I trust you." Éponine rested her forehead against his, giving him a soft smile. "I was raised by a family who didn't care about murdering. My closest friends were leading a revolution that would see unknown numbers killed. I was used to it."

"I don't deserve you or our son." Erik cupped her cheek and snaked his hand beneath the curve of her waist and rolling them over in one swift move. "I love you Éponine."

She laughed, pushing herself up from his chest. "I love you too." She could tell that he was trying to be strong, to ignore the pain that he was feeling that betrayed him and shone through his eyes. In ways he was a different man than the one she had left sleeping peacefully ten years ago. But he was still the man she loved.

"You might have accepted me, but what of Erik?"

Éponine chuckled, nestling her head against his chest hearing his heart beating beneath the scarred skin. "He's stubborn like his father."

"Or like his mother."

Éponine flapped his chest playfully, "I'm not stubborn I'm determined."

"Who keeps you here?" Erik asked suddenly, thinking of the discarded dress the maid had brought to her.

"A man. I do not know his name and never have tried to find out. I rarely see him. He brought me under 'orders' ten years ago." Éponine replied with a heavy sigh, kissing the palm of his hand. "He occasionally sends me a few new outfits a season, I've dinned with him at least once a year."

"How does he keep you here?"

"For a year I was confined to only this room, but after Erik was born they allowed me privileges to a whole wing of this house."

"Erik." Erik said with a smile on his face. "My son. My son. My son?" He tested the words in his mouth.

"Erik Gabriel Destler," Éponine nodded her head, "I chose Gabriel because it means angel."

"A son."Erik wrapped his arms around her, smoothing his hands up the curve of her back. "You've had ten years to know him and now I've seen the child I never knew I had."

"I'm sorry that he ran off like that. He'll warm up to you I promise."

"So much for the normal life we wanted for our child." Erik moved to kiss her neck, sliding his lips against the pulse he found there. "I've missed you so much."

Éponine smirked down at him, "I can tell that you've missed me."

"I'll be gentler this time." Erik whispered into her ear, his breath teasingly brushing against her skin. "I promise I won't hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me." Éponine purred leaning against his lips as they coasted along her skin. "I told you a long time ago that I would rather be hurt by you then loved by someone else."

Erik groaned as she shifted a top him, laughing at the sly smirk on her face. "Tease."

"What I'm best at," Éponine kissed him, her tongue teasing against his lip and begging for entrance. "It doesn't feel like any time has past."

**A/N: Well I've reached 50 chapters! Making this my longest FF ever! I'm really proud of how it's come out so far. This chapter was a little angst and a lot of fluff. Next chapter he tries to bond with little Erik. I hope it doesn't get to confusing with two Eriks now!**


	51. Chapter 51

Éponine left Erik to get dressed while she went to find their son. She could understand why he would have been afraid of Erik. A masked man that he had only heard about in vague stories appearing and touching his mother in a way he had never seen before. He was the only one she had hugged in his whole life.

"Erik?" Éponine called as she walked down the corridor. He wasn't in the library or his nursery. "Erik, come out dear."

"Mum," Erik appeared from one of the rarely used rooms. He had tears streaming down his face still. "Where have you been?"

"I have been with... Erik." She said softly, kneeling down at the boy's height and stroking his cheek. "Why are you crying?"

"I was scared."

"Don't ever be scared, dear." Éponine replied smoothing the boy's hair back. "What have you been doing?"

"I was reading a book, but I couldn't pay attention." He shook his head and grabbed Éponine into a hug, burying his face into the crook of her neck. "Is he gone?"

"He's not going to be leaving." Éponine replied, "He's your father."

"No!" Erik snapped, crying again. "I don't want a father. I just want my mother. I don't need a father."

"Everyone needs a father. You always wanted a father."

"No. No." Erik's voice gradually got louder, "NO!"

"Erik, hush." Éponine held his chin in her hand, staring him straight in the eyes. "He is your father."

"Make him leave."

"No," Éponine gritted, grabbing the boy's hand. "Let's retry your introduction."

"Let me go! I don't want to."

"Erik." Éponine pulled him along the hall, "Don't you want your mother to be happy?"

"Yes." The boy's voice was quiet and ashamed. She knew that to him she was his everything. In that way he was just like his father, he was possessive. "Then at least try."

Erik was silent as she led him back towards her bedroom, knocking hesitantly to make sure Erik was dressed.

"Come in."

Éponine pushed the door open, letting Erik follow her in. He clutched to her dress like a scared little boy. "Erik, come on now. You promised." She gave her husband a sceptical look as she tried to pry their son from her legs. "Come on."

"I don't bite," Erik said, crouching low and extending his hand towards his son. He kept a safe distance, not for his child's sake but for his own. He still couldn't believe it was real.

"Stay away!" Erik clutched her legs tighter, burying his face into the soft fabric of her dress.

Éponine watched Erik close his eyes as his efforts weren't working. There was hurt in his eyes as he looked up at her with a disappointed shrug. "What can I do?"

"Erik, I thought you wanted to make mummy happy?" Éponine jerked a leg forward to make him lose his hold. She pulled him away, holding him to her side. "He won't hurt you."

"Make him take off the mask."

Erik and Éponine locked eyes, he shook his head and she nodded. "He can't do that, love."

"Why not?"

"Because, if I scare you now you will be frightened to death by what's beneath it." Erik replied gravely, staring at the handsome child that he couldn't believe was from his seed.

"Erik," Éponine chastised staring at the grown man, "You don't need to frighten him like that."

"Can't you make him leave?" The boy begged, clutching his mother's hand tightly.

"No. Your mum loves him and he is not going anywhere." Éponine let out a heavy sigh, trying to think of some way to apply reason to this situation. Between Erik and her they were doomed to have an obstinate child. "Please, dear, I promise you nothing is going to change how much I love you. If you're worried about that."

Erik took a deep breath and took a hesitant step towards his son, "I'll go if you want me to."

"No." Éponine gasped, but Erik shook his head and silently told her to let him finish.

"But I was hoping I could show you how to play that pianoforte properly."

"You play?"

Erik nodded with a smile, seeing a light in his child's eyes. "I think that must be where you got that passion for playing."

"No, mum taught me."

"But, I taught your mum." Erik grinned at Éponine. "Would you like me to teach you?"

"Maybe," Erik replied as he looked up at the man. "But you have to _promise_ not to hurt mummy. She's cried an awful lot about you."

Éponine blushed and patted Erik's head, smiling at her husband. "Children and the things they say." She laughed embarrassedly, biting her lip.

"Well, I promise to never hurt her again." He couldn't help but look down at his hands with remorse. "And I promise to never hurt you."

"What's your name?"

"Erik."

"Father."

Erik looked between his parents.

"Call me whatever you want to."

The young boy held his hand out, shaking his father's hand nervously. "Can you call _him_ something else, mummy?"

Éponine chuckled, patting the boy's head. "No he's been Erik longer than you, you can be my dear or little Erik." She smiled at Erik, seeing the pride in his eyes as he stared at his child. "But we can't tell anyone that he's here."

"Why not?"

"Because," She sighed, not knowing how to explain that they were prisoners when she had never let on to that. "Because-"

"Because what kind of phantom would I be if I let more than my family know about me?" Erik gave a hearty laugh and beckoned Éponine to him. "I never want to have to leave your mother and you ever again." He pressed a kiss onto her hair.

"Why do you touch her like that?"

"Dear, there are things that adults do that are adult things to do. I haven't been able to do them because Erik has not been here. I was faithful to him. You know the marriages you read about in your stories?" The boy nodded, eyeing Erik as he wrapped his arm around his mother's waist. "Well, Erik and I are married and there are things that adults do when they're married. You'll just have to learn to adjust."

"May I go back to the music room?"

"Would you like me to come to?" Erik asked quickly, yearning to hear Éponine singing again.

"No." He shook his head, taking a few careful steps backwards. "I want to be alone."

"Erik," Éponine frowned as he rushed towards the door. "Come bac-"

"Let him go, he'll adjust. If he's anything like me he needs time to think this all through."

"He's only ten."

"He's just been given a father and pushed out of his mother's full attention. I never had a mother of my own but I know how jealous I feel when clings to you."

"He's our son." Éponine laughed as Erik held her close.

"But he still has more of your attention then I do."

"Honestly are you two going to be fighting over my attention?" Éponine leaned up to press her lips against his. "You have a _very_ different part of my attention."


	52. Chapter 52

Éponine eyed her changing screen, trying to keep her attention on the maid that was busily cleaning her room. She and Erik had only just woken up when there was a knock on the door and they had to scurry to conceal Erik in the only place he could be concealed. He wasn't even dressed behind the screen as far as she knew. He hadn't been clothed when he had to hide behind there.

"Miss, would you like me to lay out your clothes for today?" Charity questioned, catching Éponine staring at the screen.

"Uhm," Éponine stared at her for a moment, trying to figure out what the maid was asking, "If you wouldn't mind. I was thinking about wearing the gold and blue dress."

"A good choice, miss." Charity moved dangerously close to the changing screen, making Éponine jerk a little. She rubbed her eyes, trying to push away the sleepy haze she was still fighting. She sat down at her vanity, staring at her reflection groggily. From the corner of her eye she could see behind the changing screen, seeing Erik standing there as silently and as unmoving as he could. She had been accurate to assume he hadn't been able to get dressed in the few seconds he had had. He had shielded what he could with his clothes and of course had tied the mask back to its proper place.

"Miss," Charity asked, staring at Éponine questioningly. "Are you well?"

"Just feeling a slight bit ill today, that's all." Éponine shrugged, "I don't think I got nearly enough sleep last night."

"What kept you up?"

Éponine shook her head; she couldn't rightly say that her murderous masked husband had found her and that they had spent all night making up for missed time. "I was plagued by nightmares again."

"Those nightmares?"

"Yes."

"Oh dear!" Charity laid the dress out on the bed before returning to Éponine's side, taking her hands in hers. "I can have the physician make you up some of the medicine."

"No, no. If I'm having these nightmares perhaps I should let them happen."

"I wish there was some way for you to know how he is." Charity admitted, cupping her mouth in horror, "I'm sorry I've spoken out of tone."

"its fine Charity," Éponine chuckled, "Honestly I've known you for ten years, I think we can speak in friendly terms."

"I just don't think someone should be kept away from someone they love."

"Speaking of love." Éponine smiled at the young woman, "Have you and Pierce made decisions?"

"No." Charity laughed nervously, "He's got to wait until the fall of next year."

"Is that when he will let you both go?"

"I think so. I don't know. I wish he'd let you go. You're never very happy here, drifting from room to room. Your poor boy's not even allowed to run around outside like young boys are supposed to do."

"One day." Éponine smiled. "Would you excuse me so I can get ready? Also, send Erik in in about half an hour if you would."

"Yes miss." Charity curtsied politely and scurried from the room.

Éponine sighed heavily, falling back on her bed with a laugh.

"Is it safe?" Erik asked, stepping out from behind of the changing screen and quickly getting dressed. "She's quite chatty."

"She's _very_ chatty when she would like to be. Which is good, keeps her busy and keeps suspicions low." Éponine smiled as she strolled over towards Erik to help him tie his cravat.

"Nightmares?"

Éponine rolled her eyes, "I had terrible dreams about you being murdered. Between dreaming of being with you and that I've had a horrid ten years of sleep."

"I'm sorry," Erik pressed his lips against her forehead, lingering. "Soon we'll be back in _our_ bed."

"Home." Éponine pulled back and looked up at his green eyes, "What have you spent your ten years on?"

"Composing music that I could not find a voice for. And tutoring a young girl."

Éponine narrowed her eyes, "A girl?"

Erik let out a roar of laughter, hugging Éponine to him. "She's a child as old as our.. our son." He hesitated, finding that word still strange to the taste. "I think Erik might get along well with her."

"What's her name?"

"Christine."

"Christine and Erik," Éponine laughed, leaning up to kiss Erik again. "I don't think our son is ready for any girls. He's only ever been out on the balcony, he hasn't even seen the world."

"I wished that my child would never know what it felt like to be exposed to the cruel world. I guess I got my wish." Erik shook his head sombrely. "At least he has had music."

"As much as I could teach him." Éponine turned and began removing her dress gown, slipping it off her shoulders. Reaching for her corset she began lacing it up, laughing as Erik's fingers bated her fingers away and began helping her. "Thank you."

"When can we leave this place?"

"We must convince Erik first. He's happy here. He doesn't like change, much like someone else I know."

"I wonder who." Erik kissed the back of her neck, just below her ear. "I've missed you."

"I thought I lost you."

Erik took a deep breath and began to sing softly to her as she dressed, "If I never knew you. If I never felt this love I would have no inkling of how precious life can be. And if I never held you I would never have a clue how at last I'd find in you the missing part of me." He stepped back, admiring her as she dressed. 

"In this world so full of fear, full of rage and lies. I can see the truth so clear in your eyes. So dry your eyes. And I'm so grateful to you I'd have lived my whole life through. Lost forever if I never knew you."

Éponine glanced up at him as she pulled on her stockings, smiling at him. She had her own lyrics she could sing to that. "I thought our love would be so beautiful. Somehow we made the whole world bright. I never knew that fear and hate could be so strong. All they'd leave us where these whispers in the night. But still my heart is singing we were right."

"If I never knew you."

"There's no moment I regret."

"If I never knew this love."

"Since the moment that we met."

"I would have no inkling of."

"If our time has gone too fast."

"How precious life can be."

"I've lived at last."

Erik wrapped his arms around her, holding her head against his chest. He just needed to feel that she was really, truly there. He hoped that one day, soon, that they could hug like this and that he could feel his young son's hands wrapped around them both.

**A/N: Pocahontas lyrics! Great song! Really fitting for these two!**


	53. Chapter 53

Éponine cut her croissant in half, passing half to Erik. It was an impromptu breakfast picnic there on the floor of her room.

"Why does he get half mum?" Little Erik questioned, staring at his father as he ate the croissant. "She needs to eat."

Éponine laughed, "I'm quite fine with half of my food. He needs to eat too." The boy glared at Erik for a long moment before continuing to eat his fruit.

Erik watched his son nervously, wondering what to say or do. It was like working with himself. The boy had the sulky, distant expression that he knew he used to have. "How would you like to go somewhere new?"

"I'm happy here."

"Erik," Éponine warned, pointing her finger at the boy. "I think you should give it a chance."

"Why do I have to listen to him? He was never here! He made you cry!"

Erik closed his eyes; shaking his head and sitting his food back down on his plate. "Not being here was never my decision. Your mother and I had just planned that we wanted to have children. I was set in the idea of being a father someday. I woke up she was gone."

Éponine bit her lip, "Erik, there are things I've never told you. I'm sure you've realised there are things that you aren't allowed to do. We never leave the house or have visitors. We were prisoners here. But we're going to leave and go to Paris. That's my home and Erik's home."

"But what about here? It's my home."

Erik sighed, "Our home is full of freedom and music. There are other children your age there, that you can be friends with."

"I don't want friends! I don't want anything except my mother." The boy snapped, crossing his arms across his chest and pouting.

"Erik Gabriel," Éponine scorned, tired of the boy's rude behaviour. "You need friends. Whether you like it or not we're leaving. Tonight."

"No!" Erik shouted, pushing his mother's hand away as she reached for him. "I don't want to go. I want to stay. Stay mum, stay!"

"If you stay, I stay." Erik said, looking across at his son. It scared him just how much the boy acted like him, but he had never met him until now. "I'm not leaving either of you again."

"I just want it to be the two of us."

"One day, you may have siblings Erik." Éponine began slowly, reaching for her husband's hand. "You have to overcome how you were raised. You cannot be alone your whole life. You are so much like your father that it scares me."

"How am I anything like him?"

"You want to be alone. You fear outsiders. You have no trust." Erik hung his head in shame that his child had inherited those traits from him.

"I don't want my life to change."

Éponine placed her hand on the boy's cheek, giving him a sweet smile. "It will be for the better, dear."

"But you can't tell anyone." Erik warned, giving the boy as much of a smile that he could muster. "I won't let anything happen to you two again."

Éponine rose to her feet, pulling her son up and Erik. The little boy wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly. He kept his distance from his father, glancing to make sure he wasn't going to try to join in the embrace.

"May I go?"

"Yes, go, run along and play in the nursery."

"Thank you mum." The little boy ran out of the room as quickly as he could.

"He's never going to acknowledge me as his father."

Éponine held Erik's face between her hands, staring him in the eyes. "He will accept you. You have to remember I didn't want to accept you either. Now look at us."

There was a knock on the door, before either had time to move or respond the door swung open.

"Pardon me miss, I should've waited for-" Charity entered the bedroom, gasping as she saw that Éponine was not alone.

"Charity shut the door!" Éponine shouted, attempting to shield Erik from Charity's sight; even though he was a head taller and significantly wider than she was.

"Miss, who is this? How did he get here?" Charity shut the door slowly, staring at the masked man with wide eyes. "Miss, is he?"

"Charity, you mustn't say a word."

"Who is he?"

Éponine reached behind her, never taking her eyes off of Charity. She grabbed Erik's hand and stepped back towards his side. "He's my husband." Erik squeezed her hand reassuringly, feeling her trembling beside him.

"I would warn against saying anything." Erik gritted, eyeing the maid cautiously. "It would bode well for you."

Charity backed herself against the door, "Miss you could get us all in grave trouble. He can't be here. How did he get here?"

"Don't worry Charity, it doesn't concern you." Éponine pressed, "I thought you wanted us to be happy. You said it yourself that you wished there was a way. He came back to me now."

"He wasn't allowed to come back to you. There are plans that we have no control over." Charity's expression fell, "I have to tell him."

"No!" Éponine rushed at the door as the maid started to open it. "You can't. Please, you can't. I have missed him for ten years. Ten years Charity! I have dreamed and I have yearned and I have ached. Now he's here. Our son can have his father. I can have the man I love."

Charity hesitated, glancing between the masked man and her lady. "How long have you been here?"

"Two nights."

"Two nights? You haven't been caught until now? That's.."

"Divine intervention. But, Charity you must keep it quite."

Charity closed her eyes, debating the possibilities in her mind. "I will go. I will leave this room and forget that I ever saw a masked man. I only saw you, I told you that William wanted to take a walk this evening after we've ended our duties."

"Have a good evening with him." Éponine smiled, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. "Promise you won't say a word."

"I promise."

"If you don't," Erik warned, his hand's gripped in fists. "Terrible things will befall you."

"I won't." Charity squeaked, slipping out of the room quickly.

"You shouldn't have threatened her." Éponine said softly, turning to look at Erik.

"It worked." Erik watched Éponine for a moment, seeing her body still visibly trembling. "It's going to be alright." He pulled her into a hug, running his hands soothingly up and down her back. "Nothing's going to happen to us."

"I can't lose you again."

"Of any of the people you said you killed, please tell me one of them was that bitch Antoinette."

Erik shook his head, "No. She's still there at the Opera House. I wish I could have but, she was pregnant when you disappeared and I could not imagine killing two people with one attack."

"She was pregnant? Montparnasse?"

"She doesn't know for sure." Erik shrugged, pressing kisses into her hair. "She's a young blonde haired ballerina now. Like a sister to the girl I was tutoring."

"How has Antoinette been?"

"There. Always there." Erik rolled his eyes. "She tried many times to convince me that I didn't need just you, that any comforting woman would satisfy my aching soul."

Éponine looked up at him, eyeing him curiously. "And?"

Erik smirked, "I would threaten her to leave me be or I would satisfy the ache to murder with her."

"That's reassuring," Éponine pressed her lips against his, kissing him as best she could with the nuisance of a mask in her way.

"I only ever need and want you." Erik purred, pulling her flush against him.

"I suppose it was best that Charity saw you. What happens if tonight does not work and we don't escape? In a few months I may become pregnant after your stay." Éponine chuckled, wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling his hands snaking around her waist.

"We will escape. I'm not having another child of mine living like this."


	54. Chapter 54

Éponine sat at the vanity, brushing her hair out with long even strokes. She watched Erik's reflection in the mirror as he dressed behind her. He was turned away from her and she could see the long misshapen scars that were carved into his back. They danced along his shoulder blades, crept around his ribs, and ran across his spine. He was thin, much thinner than she remembered him being. You could see the knots of his spine visibly without him even bending over, his ribs pressing against his pale scarred skin. Erik seemed like a person who would neglect his own health. He had proven that with the new self inflicted scars that covered his hands.

It was the only way he knew how to cope with his pain. Hurting others or hurting himself.

"You're watching me."

"What?" Éponine asked as his reflection turned to face her. "No."

"I could feel your eyes on me."

"I wasn't."

"Éponine, I spent nine years of my life being watched. I know when someone is staring."

"I wasn't staring, I was appraising."

Erik laughed, "Aren't we the eloquent talker now."

"I've been reading these last ten years."

"But you were watching me no matter how you phrase it."

Éponine shook her head, running her fingers through her hair before twisting it into a knot on the back of her head, pinning it up with several pins. "I wasn't. If anything I was studying you."

"Why?"

"I've never got a good look at your back before."

"Oh," Erik stiffened as he tightened the belt on his pants. "They're nothing to study. Scars are pink and silvery, they stretch unusually and are painful reminders of my life before the Opera Populaire."

"But what about the scars on your hands? I look at them every time your hands touch me."

"Those are different. I am the only one to blame for the majority of those scars. The new ones at least."

"You shouldn't be ashamed of your scars." Éponine rose and walked towards him, taking his hands in her hands. "They're beautiful."

"I inflicted them on myself. I marred my body. How is that beautiful?"

"Because they're part of you." Éponine pressed her lips against his scared finger tips.

Erik groaned, rolling his eyes at her words. "A beautiful monster."

"We're not going to go through this again. You wallow too much." Éponine teased, patting his cheek and carrying on with packing her belongings away in the satchel she'd taken from her trunk.

"I do not wallow."

"You pout then. You sulk. You bathe in your misery."

"You've been reading too much." Erik replied with a smirk as he buttoned his shirt up, looping his cravat around his neck.

"What else did I have to do with a baby and all the free time in the world? I didn't have you to keep me occupied." Éponine stuck her tongue to her cheek, giving him a playful wink.

"That's why you keep me around?"

"Of course!" Éponine swung her arms around his neck, leaving only a breath of space between their faces. "You're the only occupation I'll ever need."

"How about the mother of our brood of children we're going to have with all of your _occupational_ skills?"

"You've just found out you have a ten year old son and now you want a brood of children? My goodness Erik, don't you move fast."

"I waste little time. It's going to take a very long time to make up ten years."

"Plus, when we get back to our home we're not going to be alone at all."

"Oh," Erik stared down into her eyes. "I suppose it would scar Erik to have us being our old selves around him."

"I think that it would be beyond scaring." Éponine stuck her tongue out teasingly, chuckling when Erik pressed his lips against hers and nipped her tongue. "Tease."

"You're the only tease around here."

"A tease who should continue packing her things up. It'll be nightfall soon. I'm not doing my hair again." Éponine kissed him on the nose before unwinding her arms and continuing packing.

"I guess we'll find a way to be together once there's three of us down there."

"There's always one of the dressing rooms. Or perhaps the chapel."

"I have missed you." Erik growled, as he finished tying his cravat.

"I know," Éponine smirked, as she finished packing her last things. "I will go and fetch Erik, we'll leave after dinner."

"I'll finally have you back in my life."

"I have missed you and I have missed Paris."

"I fear, Paris has changed drastically since you were last there."

"How so?" Éponine asked, stopping as she headed towards the door.

"I'm sure you heard of the war breaking out?"

"No," Éponine gasped, "Who won?"

"They lost Éponine."

"The boys?"

"They're-" Erik broke off, unsure of a gentle way to give her the news.

"No. No. They can't be." Éponine leaned against the door, feeling her knees weaken. "I can't believe it. No."

"I'm sorry but," Erik hastily moved to be at her side as she crumpled, burying her face into the crook of his neck and sniffling back tears. "They did not make it."

"All of them? No. Not Enjolras, he was far too brave to fall in battle."

"I'm sorry."

"No. What about.. Joly?"

"He did not make it."

"Grantaire?"

"No."

"Feuilly? Lesgles? Combeferre?"

"No."

"Gavroche? Sweet little Gavroche."

"I'm sorry."

"No, Erik! Tell me it's a lie. Tell me their all alive. Please."

"There's one you haven't asked about." Erik said, squeezing her tightly and comforting her as she sobbed.

"Not Marius. I don't want to know."

"He's alive. He and Cosette married."

Éponine didn't know how to respond to that. The man that she loved before Erik was ever in her life, had survived what seemed to be a bloody battle and had married the girl she used to torment as a child. Not to mention the girl who more or less held her captive at the Rue Plumet. She was apparently doomed to be held captive from Erik.

"I'm sorry that you've lost them." Erik held her, stroking her and letting her cry. She had lost people she grew up with and cared for. They weren't even that long dead. He hadn't wanted to tell her yet, but when was the right time to tell someone their friends had died.


	55. Chapter 55

Éponine looked around the hall as she and Erik walked back to her room. The boy was hesitant about leaving the manor house. It was all he had ever known and ever wanted to know. She had spent nearly a half an hour trying to convince him that everything was going to be alright. Didn't he want to have a father and friends? She tried to explain to him what the labyrinth he would be living in looked like. It was a wonderland beyond his imagination.

"Are we ready to go?" Erik asked looking over his shoulder as his wife and son entered the room. He had been worried that she hadn't been able to convince him to come with them or that they had been caught.

"Very ready." Éponine grabbed her bag she had packed, insuring that Erik had his bag still slung over his shoulder.

"What will happen once we're gone?" Erik questioned as he eyed the balcony illuminated by the pale moonlight.

"We'll travel to Paris. I'm sure we'll make a few stops for rest and food." Erik replied, giving the boy a hesitant smile. He wanted to have a relationship with the boy so badly, but he gave nothing back to him. The child only glared at him for a second longer and turned his attention back to his mother.

"Is that what'll happen?" Erik asked her.

"If your father says so, then I say so." Éponine replied, patting the boy on the head. "Come here and let him pick you up. You'll be safer holding on to Erik and letting him climb down."

Erik hesitantly walked toward his father, letting him pick the small boy up. He clung to Erik's back for dear life, as Erik stepped up on to the edge of the balcony, carefully climbing down holding onto the bed sheets he had knotted together.

Éponine took once final glance around her prison room before following them down the sheets.

"We have to stay quiet," She said to their son as they crept towards the gates of the manor. She knew there were dogs that would be released if there was any sort of noise around the lawn. Erik had made it in successfully, so she let him lead the way as he carried to boy on his back.

"I'm scared."

"Shh." Éponine whispered, pressing her finger to her lips.

"Damn it." Erik growled as he heard dogs barking not too far away. "Run."

They both picked up speed as the rushed towards the gates at the end of the entrance path. Éponine pulled on the unbudging bars. Erik started to scramble up the bars, sending his son over his shoulders and letting him go first.

"Go!" Erik shouted at Éponine as she started to follow him up.

The barking grew closer and closer. Éponine glanced down to see the dogs running at the fence. Growling and teeth glinting in the moonlight.

They clamoured up the fence, making it over the side just in time to see lanterns approaching from the house.

Erik grabbed Éponine's hand and their son's hand and started running as quickly as the boy's legs could keep up. He wasn't going to let them be taken away from him again.

~o~

"One room for the night please." Erik asked the gentleman at the bar, revealing the money for the night.

"Travel's a curse aye?" Asked the innkeeper, moving behind the counter to grab a key from the wall. "'Ere's it for ye. Will ye be staying alone?"

"Perhaps," Erik said smugly, trying to act as nonchalant as he could. The tavern was thankfully dimly lit and his cloak shielded his face. Éponine had convinced him it would be better to not where the mask than to wear it.

"Eh, 'oping to get lucky then?" The innkeeper questioned, handing him the key and taking the money. " 'Er's we got good pickin's." He gestured around the room where townspeople and travellers alike were drinking and gambling.

Éponine sat with their son near one of the corners. She had come in earlier than he had to draw less suspicion.

"Wot, that pretty little thing over there with the little one. Says she's a widow. Aye, if I weren't an 'onest married man I'd be on 'er like dogs t'meat."

"I am not so sure she is my type." Erik replied cheekily, thinking just how much she was his type. His heart swelled with pride as he watched her and their son talking and laughing. "My room first, however."

"Come right this way, right this way." The innkeeper lead him up the stairs to his room. "Tis not much, but it's a place to rest your head." Erik looked around the room, shrugging his shoulders approvingly.

"It'll do for a night." Erik replied. It was a small room and a small bed. Erik and Éponine would fit perfectly in the bed, and he would sleep on the floor or in the small wooden chair beside the bed. It would do.

"I'll let yer 'ave alone time." The innkeeper shut the door behind him as he left. Leaving Erik alone in the small room. He had to admit it would feel lonely if he didn't know he had a beautiful woman and their son waiting for him. A family.

Erik kept his cloak around his head, turning to make his way back downstairs. He would be lucky if no one inquired about his hood or tried to remove it. Éponine still sat in the corner with their son, trying to keep him occupied and not asking too many questions.

"A mug of ale." Erik called as he proudly sat himself down in a seat near the fireplace, warming his hands.

"And who do we 'ave here?" Asked one of the women who had milling around the guests, she sat herself across from him. She golden straw like hair and a pretty face that was marred with cover not even fit for the stage.

"William deBarge," Erik lied, producing his hand for her to shake. Lying was, after all, one of his greater talents. He could feel Éponine's eyes on him as he tried to act interested in the woman in hopes to disperse in questions.

"Spring," She replied with a broad, missing tooth, grin. "The pleasure is all mine."

Erik nodded his head, sipping his ale heartily. He would have the best conversation he had ever held under falsehood with this amateur whore. When he was done talking with her and then leaving her hanging he would move on to the woman he had set his sights on ten years before. The only woman who had ever made him feel complete.


	56. Chapter 56

Éponine had spent her life pretending, as well as she could, that she didn't love Marius. Every time he would touch her hand or kiss his cheek she would have to contain the rise of joy in her soul. Fighting the urge to throw herself into his arms and tell him how much she adored him. But at the same time she worked for her father, convincing men they weren't making love to one already dead, convincing Montparnasse that she loved him completely, and all the while pretending she was working for the good guys and convincing the bad guys she was working for them.

Lying was as much in her character as it was in masked lover. But somehow she doubted she would be very good at this playacting.

"William deBarge," Erik said as he sat down at the table with Éponine. He gave her a fleeting smirk as he continued, "It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Grace Roslind," Éponine forced an unfamiliar smile, shaking his hand like she would a stranger. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well."

"Do you come here very often?"

"No," Éponine bit her lip to keep from laughing, "My brother and I staying here for tonight."

"Your brother?"

"My mother died shortly after he was born and his father was never... Her occupation didn't exactly allow for a steady father. We're on route to visit a relation."

"Ah, I'm sorry for your loss." Erik said softly, trying his best to stay as an unconnected stranger and not slip into the man who loved her. "Could I buy you a drink?"

"You," Éponine smiled as lost track of her words, "That would be kind of you Monsieur deBarge. Thank you."

"An ale please," Erik asked as one of the men walked by, he tossed him the money and took the ale. "Here you are _Grace_."

"Thank you," Éponine blushed as their fingers brushed when she took the mug from him.

Erik sat quietly to her side, obeying surprisingly well. She had told him that under no condition was he allowed to talk until they were in their room for the night. He had to pretend he had never seen Erik before.

"Do you have a room for the evening?" Erik asked seductively, sending shivers straight through her.

"I do not. Are you offering?"

"I am. I will even allow your _brother_ to stay in the room."

"An honest man, I am surprised." Éponine shooed Erik to stand up, "Would you be against taking us to a room now? My brother's very tired."

"Of course," Erik replied smoothly, placing his hand on her shoulder and leading her towards the stairs. "It's right up stairs."

Behind closed doors they could finally drop the act and become themselves again.

"Well that wasn't too hard," Erik said as he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled his boots off. "It could've been harder."

"You could've had to romance the tart more," Éponine quipped with a jealous look, "I might have not stayed in character very well."

"You were great."Erik smiled, tugging off his second boot. "Erik, you and your mother can sleep in the bed. I'll take the chair, I'm not very tired as it is."

"You have bags under your eyes. Don't lie. We all need to be as awake as we can be tomorrow." Éponine sat on the edge of the bed beside him, pulling the cloak away from his head. "Besides, I don't want you to have to wear the mask if you're trying to rest."

"I'll sleep on the floor." Erik said quietly, unsure if he was allowed to speak yet.

Éponine stared at the young boy for a moment, "You would do that for your father?"

"No." Erik replied coldly, glancing at the man. "I'm doing it for you mother."

Erik cringed at his son's words. Every time there was a glimmer of hope, that his child was finally accepting him, he would destroy it. The boy was more like him than either fully realised. He recognized the child's menacing trickery as his own. "Thank you Erik."

"I said I wasn't doing it for you."

"Boys, boys." Éponine laughed, rising to her feet. "If that is what you want, Erik then let's make you up a bed." Éponine took one of the two blankets from the pitiful excuse of a mattress, folding it up thick on the floor. "It's not much, if it's uncomfortable just tell us."

"It's fine."

"Erik, help me with the laces." Éponine motioned to her husband, beckoning him to remove the laces at the back of her dress. "I'll let him use this for a blanket."

Erik nodded as he nimbly removed the laces, planting a soft kiss to her shoulder as the dress slid away from her body, leaving her in only her chemise. "Here you are Erik."

The boy stared up at his father, taking the dress and laying down with it. He uttered no appreciation or gratitude towards his father. His eyes were envious and cold. He hated the man, more than anything in the world. He had come into his life, uprooting him from the only home he had ever known and taking his mother's attention away from only him.

"Good night," Erik tried again with his son. He wanted to have the connection with him that he had been denied of as a child. He wanted to teach the child everything he could. But he was convinced the boy would never love him. No matter how much his heart was filled with love, he couldn't make his son return it.

"Now Erik, your father is not going to wear his mask." Éponine gave Erik a small smile, before turning back to the boy. "Wait to hear us stirring in the morning before you get up."

"Yes mum."

Éponine turned to Erik and shrugged, sitting back on the bed and slipping her shoes off of her sore feet. "At least we have somewhere to sleep tonight."

"That's a relief." Erik replied, untying the cravat around his neck and shedding his coat. Hesitantly he removed his mask, making sure Erik was still lying at the foot of the bed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Éponine took the mask from his hand and sat it down on the table by the bed. "You need to sleep comfortably." She rose, planting a tender kiss to his lips. "Good night."

They slipped into bed together, quietly curling against each other and cherishing a tender night spent in each other's arms. After so many years apart just being near each other was all that they needed.


	57. Chapter 57

Éponine stretched away from Erik before curling back close to him. With one eye open she looked around to realise where they were. For a moment she had thought they were back home beneath the Opera Populaire when they had first started being together. But then it came flooding back to her. An Inn on their way back to France. Their son was sleeping on the floor at the foot of the bed.

Erik shifted, wrapping his arm around her waist possessively and pulling her close to him. "Good morning." His voice was low and rumbling as he buried his face in her curly tangle of hair. His fingers massaged little circles against her skin that caused her to shiver.

"Good morning to you too." Éponine muttered, rubbing her eyes in an attempt to wake up. She could hear Erik snoring softly at the foot of the bed, giving them only a few moments to bask in the morning's sunlight shining in on them. "He's still asleep." Éponine turned under his arm, facing him with a smile. His twisted flesh was the first sight that greeted her, startling her slightly still.

"Is it wrong that I want you?" Erik muttered, leaning towards her and capturing her lips. His hands ran along her clothed skin, teasing the soft skin beneath. Éponine chuckled underneath his ministrations, pushing his wandering hands away.

"Not wrong, just not possible right now." Éponine pressed a kiss against his lips teasingly before prying herself out of under his arms. "Soon dear."

"Tease." Erik growled, reaching for his mask and tying it to his face. "When will we have time now that we have a family?"

"Once we're home." Éponine slipped out of the bed, moving around to the foot of the bed and gently tapping Erik. "Wake up Erik."

The little boy buried his face in his arm, stretching out like a cat. "I'm tired."

Éponine laughed, scooping the boy up in her arms. He was small for a ten year old, he came no higher than her hips. He was thin, just like his father. All muscle but all bone as well. "You can sleep until we get to the coast."

"Then once we get on the boat, you'll be able to get another night's rest." Erik said, tugging his shoes back on as he glance over at his wife and son. "Then we'll nearly be home."

"We're leaving _my_ home." Erik snapped, turning his nose up indigently.

"_Erik_." Éponine warned, pointing a finger in the boy's face. "That's not how we speak to our father."

"I don't have a father." The boy protested, fighting his way out of Éponine's arms. "Let go of me."

"Erik!" Éponine shouted sternly, grabbing the boy's arm and scolding him. "You do not talk to me like that so I do not expect you to talk to him like that."

Erik cringed, feeling his heart sink more and more every time his son denied his existence. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for most of your life. It was not part of my plans. All I've ever wanted was to have a family and to be happy. These last ten years were meant for us to be together, not separated."

"Don't." Erik turned away from his parents, jerking the bed he had slept on off of the floor. "When are we leaving?"

"Now," Éponine replied, shaking her head in disappointment. "I'm sorry." She mouthed to Erik, shrugging her shoulders.

Erik shook his head. He wanted to be the boy's father. He wanted to show him the beauty of the world. He wanted to be the man in his life that he had been denied. Instead fate had decided to ruin his wishes. How could he ever win the boy's love and favour. Erik only saw his father as competition for Éponine's attention.

~o~

The carriage ride was difficult for the two adults. Erik had decided that he wanted to sleep during the ride, but he would only be satisfied if he could lie on Éponine's lap. He took the opportunity to make sure that his father couldn't sit beside his mother. He stretched out on the seat, resting his head on Éponine's lap and staring at Erik where he sat alone across from them.

His hostile, cold, eyes studied the man that claimed to be his father. He wasn't sleeping, no matter how calming his mother's soft strokes were on his arms. He was more interested in giving the elder Erik menacing glares for the duration of the ride. Enjoying the uncomfortable look on his face. He didn't dare say anything about them, not wanting to upset Éponine. If he worked hard enough perhaps he could even wedge an obstacle between his parents, letting his mother realise how wrong the masked man was for her. She didn't need anyone in her life except for her son.

Erik could see himself staring back at him in the form of his son. Every bad trait he knew he possessed was there before him in his child. He was a beautiful boy, with two flawless cheeks but he had a temper and hostile spirit like his masked and murderous father. No matter how hard he tried to find some way for the boy to warm up to him, he was shot down. Éponine loved him and had to suffer ten years of raising the boy as a prisoner. He had lived ten years without knowing where they had gone or even that there was even a child. He had no right to try to dictate the boy's life yet.

Éponine stared out the window, watching the scenery passing her by. What was there for her to find when she returned to Paris? Besides her home and maybe a new chance at performing fame. She could finally raise Erik with his father and in their home. But the people she had been so close to before Erik were gone. The war had played out in her absence and those that had always been so close to her heart, were dead and gone. She hoped that Erik could have been wrong and that somehow her beloved rebels were still alive. Erik wasn't exactly known for keeping up with current events that didn't concern him. News on rebel deaths or the Opera House? She knew which one he'd chose.

**A/N: Finally I updated this story! I've been so busy with my other stories and life. *sigh* Anyways check out my other stories! :D **


	58. Chapter 58

The sun was setting as the boat set off towards France. The ship was not overcrowded, merely inhabited by a few travellers like Éponine, Erik, and their son. It was relaxing to let their guards down and just enjoy the quiet lapping of the water against the sides of the boat.

"I'm tired." Erik said, tugging on his mother's hand. "I need to sleep."

"I can take him back to the room," Erik said, giving Éponine a soft smile. He wouldn't mind have a few minutes alone with his son to explain exactly what he expected out of him.

"If you're sure."

"No." Erik growled, tugging harder on Éponine's hand. "Mother please, I'm scared."

"Erik," Éponine crouched in front of him, "You have to overcome this fear of him. Your father means you no harm."

"Please, I want to go back mother. I don't want you to be with him. I just want it to be the two of us. Please!"

"Erik, please, don't do this." Éponine soothed, patting his cheek gently. "Listen to me. Nothing is going to separate your father and me now. Not even what you want."

Erik closed his eyes, feeling that ache in his heart again. "It's alright Éponine, you can take him back to the room. I'll still be here."

"I'm sorry," Éponine said, looking up at the masked man with sad eyes. "It'll only be a minute."

Éponine and Erik headed back down the side of the deck towards the rooms, Erik chattering non endingly about different things they had left back at the manor house.

He studied the shimmering water, painted blue beneath the full moon in the sky. Watching each little wave as it quivered across the surface as they moved across the water. No matter how hard he tried, his son was never going to admit that he was his father. He was lost in thought and contemplation as he watched the water.

"Never knew I could feel like this," Éponine sang softly, approaching from behind him. Her hand rested against his shoulder. "Like I've never seen the sky before. Want to vanish, inside your kiss. Seasons may change, winter to spring. But I love you, until the end of time."

Erik smiled, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close to his side. "Come what may, come what may. I will love you until my dying day."

Éponine couldn't help but beam back at him as their voices entwined together. "Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place. Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace. Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste. It all revolves around you. And there's no mountain too high. No river too wide.  
Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side. Storm clouds may gather. And stars may collide."

"I love you." Erik whispered, kissing her cheek.

"I love you." Éponine laughed, glancing around the deck to make sure no one was watching. She slipped her hand behind his head, pulling the mask away from his face. "I will love you, until my dying day."

Erik took the mask from her hands, holding it behind her back as he pulled her close and rested his hands at the small of her back. His lips pressed against hers, his tongue gently prying her lips apart. Just being able to have her so close for a few moments without any interruptions was enough for him. They had been together at the manor, but they had been interrupted by the servant. Now, they would be interrupted by Erik whenever they displayed the slightest affection to each other.

Éponine ran her fingers through his hair, her arms wrapped around his neck as their mouths moved against each other passionately. She had missed that overwhelming passion between them. Ten years apart and a few passionate moments between them at the manor had not been nearly enough to satisfy her needs for him. Éponine leaned harder against him, moulding soft against his firm.

Erik pulled away, breathing heavily. "Not here." He cupped her cheek, kissing her again. "Not now." His actions contradicted his words as he ran his hand down her side, holding her hip as he navigated them away from the railing of the ship. He pushed her back against the wall, leaning heavily against her.

"Erik." Éponine rasped, clutching his shirt between her fingers. "I need you."

"Someone could see."

Éponine bit her lip, fighting back the words in her mind. She had had many 'public' evenings with a few buyers when she was younger. Montparnasse for instance enjoyed the thrill of possibly being caught. But, Erik had his point. Getting caught would do neither of them any good. "You're right." Éponine muttered, keeping her body painfully close to his. She wasn't quite ready to leave the passionate embrace.

Erik skimmed his lips against her neck, brushing her hair aside to give him better access. Just because they couldn't go through with everything, didn't mean they had to stop right now. He let the mask he grasped in his hand drop to the deck, wrapping the hand around her wrist and holding her arm out. His lips brushed along her arm from her wrist up towards her shoulder, across her collarbones and down the other side.

Éponine toyed with his cravat with her free hand, pulling at the knot until it relented and fell away. "I love you." Éponine hissed as he scraped his teeth against her collarbone, her hands skimming down his back. "We need to stop." She gasped, pushing him away from her. "While we still can stop. Because the passionate, all consuming fire is starting to take control." Her words came out between panting gasps for air as she toyed with his dark hair.

His eyes were ablaze with passion as they stared down at her, stilling himself as he tried to focus on something else besides the beautiful woman that he yearned for desperately. "Our hearts took control."

"They did." Éponine rested her back heavily against the wooden wall behind her, feeling the cool night air blowing between their fiery bodies.

"Mother?"

"Dammit." Erik cursed, jerking away from the voice of their son. "My mask, Éponine, my mask."

Éponine reached for the mask, intercepted by the boy who leapt towards the mask like his life depended on it. "Erik, give it back."

"No!" He shouted, clutching the mask to his chest. "Why does he wear a mask? Show me!"

Erik cringed, his hand covering his disfigurement and his back turned away from his son. This was one way to erase all of the desire that had been coursing through him. "Give your mother the mask, _boy_."

"No!" Erik roared, stepping away from his parents. "Show me your face. Show me what you hide."

"Why do you want to see this?" Erik questioned menacingly, fighting the urge to whip around and show the boy exactly what he was wanting to see. "Give _me_ the mask."

Éponine stepped cautiously towards the boy, seeing the malicious glint in his eyes. He was more like his father than she had ever imagined. "Erik, give me the mask. Please. It's not nice to take what's not yours."

Erik side stepped away from her, closing in towards the railing of the deck. "I'll cast it over."

"No." Éponine held her hand out, motioning for him to just stay put. "It is not yours to tamper with. Give it back to me."

"I'll give it back, if you will make him leave."

"Erik, do not be ridiculous. I thought you want me to be happy?" Éponine asked, feeling her voice tremble. They would reach land by first light, Erik could not finish the journey without his mask.

"You don't need him!" The boy screamed, dangling the mask over the railing.

Erik turned, watching the scene play out. His hand was glued to his face, covering as much as the disfigurement as he could. "Do not do this."

"Don't tell me what to do! I don't need you. I just need my mum. I don't need some man coming and taking my mum away. Just leave. We don't want you here. You've ruined my life!"

Erik felt his heart break, cringing at the cold words as they flew from the young boy's mouth. There was something hot sliding down his cheek, something hot danced down both cheeks. Did his son's words really cut him that deep to the core? "Please," Erik whispered, holding his free hand out in front of him. "Give me my mask back."

"Show me your face."

Erik's hand trembled as he removed it from his cheek. Revealing the twisted and ruined flesh, bathed in the blue moonlight. A scream echoed across the deck as Erik saw the horror of his father's face. He rushed towards Éponine, burying his face into her skirts. The mask, no longer necessary, dropped to the deck.

Ashamed of what he was, Erik picked the mask up. Studying it for a long moment before placing it over his face. Even his own son was repulsed by him. Éponine, didn't care, but Éponine was not one to show any fear or any repulsion. But his own flesh and blood, turned away in horror.

"Mother please! Make him go away. Make him leave. Please. Mother! He's a monster." Erik screamed against her skirts, clutching to her like a trembling leaf.

"Erik, shush. Erik, please be quite. Someone will hear." Éponine clasped her hand over the boy's mouth, muting his terrified shouting. "Don't say such things about him."

"It's alright," Erik said quietly, meeting her mournful eyes. His shoulders sagged beneath the weight of the moment. "I know I am a monster. I know that. I have always known that. Why would I think that my own child would find comfort in the mangled flesh of a demon?"

"Erik!" She gasped, pleading with him silently as she held her crying son in her arms.

_Stay._

_Why?_

_For me. For our son._

_He does not want me._

_I want you. I will always want you._

_Once we dock, I can vanish. Leave you two to live your life._

_Never. You cannot leave me again._

_But he does not deserve me as a father._

_Stay for me. Stay for our love and the life we deserve._

Erik nodded slowly, stepping towards Éponine and their son. "I will not leave. I will try to make this work."

**A/N: Oh yea! Long chapter. Song is **_**Come What May**_** from Moulin Rouge!**


	59. Chapter 59

Erik kept his distance as Éponine tucked the boy into bed. His heart shifted between pride and disappointment. Having the son he had longed for in his life filled him with joy, but knowing that he would never be _that_ man in his life broke his heart.

Éponine glanced over her shoulder as she brushed her fingers across Erik's cheek. She took a deep breath, starting to sing a soft lullaby to the boy. "Kiss today goodbye. The sweetness and the sorrow.  
Wish me luck, the same to you. But I can't regret. What I did for love, what I did for love."

Erik took a few, slow steps towards Éponine and Erik. The boy was still bleary eyed from crying, but his eyes were weighted heavy with sleep as Éponine sang softly. Her lyrics striking a chord inside his heart.

"Look my eyes are dry. The gift was ours to borrow. It's as if we always knew. And I won't forget what I did for love. What I did for love. Gone. Love is never gone. As we travel 's what we'll remember." Éponine smiled sweetly as Erik started drifting to sleep. She could feel Erik behind her, his presence filling the empty space at her back.

"Kiss today goodbye. And point me t'ward tomorrow. We did what we had to do. Won't forget, can't regret. What I did for love."

Erik took a deep breath, letting his voice join with hers. He knew that even if his face was ugly, his voice was beautiful. "Point me t'ward tomorrow. We did what we had to do. Won't forget, can't regret. What I did for love. What I did for love." His hand rested on her shoulder as he looked down at the sleeping boy.

"I am sorry for what he said." Éponine whispered, rising from the edge of the bed slowly.

"It's nothing I didn't already know." Erik's voice was low and sorrowful. He could never forget what he looked like, but it didn't mean the memory of his disfigurement wasn't painful. He reached his hand out to take hers, stepping backwards and leading her towards part of the cabin that was farther from Erik's bed.

"He's abrasive. He says the first thing that comes to his mind. He doesn't mean it."

Erik laughed, pressing the knuckles of her fingers to his lips. "He's just like his father."

"He is." Éponine replied, smiling at the gentle touch. "It scares me how much he's like you. Not to say that there's anything wrong with you."

"I know what you mean," Erik retorted, rolling his eyes. "He's full of spite and venom, obsession and possessiveness." Erik took her other hands in his hand, enjoying the feel of her warm soft skin beneath his scarred hands. "He's just like me."

"He will accept you. One day he will." Éponine stepped forward and kissed the corner of his unmasked lip.

~o~

France. Éponine could have shouted for joy as she set foot on her homeland. After ten, long years of waiting to return she was finally home. Another day's journey and they would be in Paris. It would be another long day, cramped into a carriage as it rolled along the bumpy country roads.

Éponine didn't let Erik chose where to sit this time. She told him that she was tired and that she wanted to sleep. She couldn't sleep with a little wiggling worm beside her. Instead she had the boy sleep across from them on the empty seat. Éponine knew her son wasn't pleased with being pushed aside, but she was exhausted and just wanted to curl up beside Erik.

Erik draped his arm over her shoulders, letting her cheek rest against chest. They had stayed up all night talking with each other, interspersed with delicious kissing and cuddling – a word he still couldn't fathom that he could use. His son was glaring at them, piercing eyes stabbing into him. If this minuet display of affection irritated the boy, he would have been uncontrollably angered by the amount of affection that they had been doling out last night.

Erik knew the exact thoughts going through the young boy's head, the eyes said it all. The hatred and the loathing, the jealousy and the pain. The younger Erik had only ever had Éponine to rely on and lean on, and he was afraid to lose the only support he had ever known. Much the same way as Erik had been so terrified to lose the only love he had ever had. The young boy would be afraid of losing Éponine and if he was anything like his father, he was going to fight tooth and nail to keep him away.

"Erik what's wrong?" Éponine asked softly, taking his scarred hand in hers and giving it a squeeze.

"Him."

"Nothing."

The son and the father met each other's eyes. Éponine squeezed Erik's hand reassuringly, feeling him tense at the boy's harsh words. Her son had become his biggest enemy and she wasn't going to let him ruin their life. They would be a family.

"Erik, dear, can we just try to get along?" Éponine sighed heavily, trying to get comfortable against Erik.

The boy pouted, trying to illicit emotion from his mouth. "But I want you to love only me."

"Erik, I still love you just as much as I loved you before. But, with your father back in my life I just need time to be reacquainted. Once we're home everything will even out, I promise you."

~o~

Home had felt like a world away for so long that seeing the Opera Populaire's massive form before her, flooded Éponine with a torrent of emotions. Paris had been a place to live, but inside the walls of the ornate Opera House and down several flights of concealed stairs was home.

"I'm home. I'm home." Éponine stared up at the building, remembering everything that had happened in her life there. "Erik, this is the Opera Populaire. This is _home_."

"Take me back to the manor!" Erik tugged at her skirts, his fists tightening in the material. "Take me back to where it's green."

"Come and let me show you what there is to see." Erik said, taking Éponine's hand and leading her and his son towards the doorway. "Let me show you the beauty underneath, Erik."

Éponine held onto her son's hand, pulling him along as he protested following his father. She knew that once he saw the labyrinth of their home, he would accept his father some tiny bit. She felt young again; hand in hand with her husband and rushing through the Opera House in a blur of noise and colour. The stage hands were busily moving up and down the corridors, moving sets and flats, props in hand and paint. They were preparing for a show it seemed. But, they were heading towards the Prima Donna dressing room, where the passage way down was.

"Have you ever yearned to go, past the world you think you know? Been enthralled to the call of the beauty underneath. Have you let it draw you in, past the place where dreams begin? Felt the full breathless pull of the beauty underneath." Erik sang as he lead his family down the stone staircases, descending into the deeps of his realm.

"When the dark unfolds its wings, do you sense the strangest things? Things no one would ever guess. Things mere words cannot express." Erik revealed the white horse that he had purchased when started tutoring Christine. The young girl was Erik's age, he knew a child would find a beautiful steed enchanting.

"Yes." Erik hissed, the words that his father was saying, sinking in.

"Do you find yourself beguiled, by the dangerous and wild? Do you feed on the need for the beauty underneath? Have you felt your senses surge and surrender to the urge? And been hooked as you looked at the beauty underneath. When you stare behind the night can you glimpse its primal might? Might you hunger to possess. Hunger that you can't repress?"

"Yes!" Erik's eyes were wide as he listened to his father's words, the world around him evolving into a grotto with an elegant gondola. "It seems so beautiful. So strange yet beautiful. Everything's just as you said." His eyes watched the water as they floated along the grotto, the world before him unveiled. A lair full of candles, of ornate decoration, statues, and a beautiful organ.

Éponine smiled, placing her hand on her son's shoulder, "Is there music in your head. Have you followed where it led? And be graced with the taste of the beauty underneath. Does it fill your every sense? Is it terribly intense? Tell me you need it too. Need the beauty underneath."

A trio of voices echoed as Erik helped Erik and Éponine from the boat. "When he lifts his voice and sings. Don't you feel amazing things? Things you know you can't confess. Things you thirst for, nonetheless." Where there had been two voices, they had combined into one that had now created three.

Home. Éponine was finally home with her husband and their son. Ten years and she was finally back to the only place she had ever felt like she had belonged.

**A/N: The first song is "What I Did For Love" from Chorus Line, the second song is obviously "The Beauty Underneath" from Love Never Dies. I really hope my next chapter is about 2k. Oh, guess what? No more FF delays! I wasn't the one delayed, it was Fanfiction I was updating every bloody day but no one knew! :( **


	60. Chapter 60

"Welcome to your new home. Creation's domain. Where music and madness are one in the same." Erik said grandly, tossing away his cloak and rolling up his sleeves. Here in this place that had for so long been empty, he now found joy and excitement. Knowing that he would never have to live a day alone was all he needed.

"Mother, when are we going to go home?" Erik asked quietly, the atmosphere crashed down around them at his one simple sentence.

"What do you mean?"

"I do not want to stare here forever."

Erik's heart broke as he stepped slowly towards Éponine and Erik. The boy shifted away from him, side stepping on the other side of Éponine. His eyes were wary as he watched his father. His hatred and fear combining together.

"But, don't you like it?" Éponine asked softly, kneeling down to the boy's level. "You seemed to like it."

"It's fine."

Fine was not what he wanted to hear from his son. He wanted to hear that it was enthralling, captivating, what he wanted with his life.

"This is home now. This is where we live. Forget the manor."

"This is where you were always meant to be. If God had been kind." Erik replied, resting his hand on Éponine's shoulder, pressing his fingers against her shoulder as a reassuring gesture. He looked down at the boy, seeing his own eyes reflecting back. Was he so cursed as to having a son that did not love him in return? He deserved better than that.

"Where is my room?"

Erik exchanged glances with Éponine, "There is a room where Christine has spent the evening. More feminine then I'm sure you'd like." Erik tried to force a strangled laugh from his lungs, but it came out sounding more like a cough than anything else.

"Who is Christine?" Erik asked cautiously, reluctantly following Éponine and Erik through the labyrinth of rocks and statues.

"A young student of mine. She is close to your age."

"A friend?" Éponine offered, as Erik light the candelabras in the dark room, shedding light on the secluded room. If she were a young girl she would be enchanted by the space. "You did this for the little girl?"

"She was like a daughter. A child that I never had, until now." Erik swept the dust cloth from the small bed, the perfect size for Erik. "This space will be yours Erik. Whatever you yearn for I will give you."

Erik's eyes were wide as saucers as he looked around the room. Mirrors reflected the candle light, giving the impression of more space. There were shelves and shelves of books. Statues of unicorns and mermaids. He would rather see statues of centaurs and hippogriffs like those he had seen in books. No matter how much he wanted to gape and be giddy with excitement at a room that was all his, even if it was not his nursery room back at the manor – he resisted. He wouldn't let the man who claimed to be his father, have any upper hand.

"It's nice."

Erik took a deep breath, resisting the urge to argue. It would do for now. He couldn't expect much more out of the young version of himself. He knew he hardly expressed emotions unless it was with Éponine. She was the only one who had seen an emotion besides anger.

"Are you tired after the journey?" Éponine asked cautiously as the boy examined the room. He glanced over his shoulder at her with a shrug and a nod. "Would you mind sleeping now?"

"No."

"I'll be out in a minute," Éponine said to Erik as he stepped back towards the doorway. She flashed him a sympathetic smile, before turning back to the boy. "You have to go easy on him, little one. He's trying his hardest to impress you."

"Do you love him more than me?"

Éponine burst out in laughter, "I love you both the same, but in two very different ways. I love you like a mum loves her son, but I love your father like a mum and a father love each other. It's complicated. But I love you both."

"If he loved you why did he make you cry so much?"

"Because there were forces that separated us against our will. But now we're together again. Please, don't be a new force separating us. I love him too much to lose him again."

Erik shrugged his shoulders, sitting down on the edge of the bed and kicking his shoes off. "I don't understand all of this _love_ nonsense."

"One day you will, for now be patient. Knowing, that I will always love you." Éponine planted a kiss on the boys cheek, giving him a hug before leaving him alone in the room. She stepped out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Erik stood outside the door, leaning against the wall. "You were listening."

"I wanted to know what he had to say."

"I'll tell you the very same thing. Give him time." Éponine laughed, placing her hand on his chest, over his heart. "I love you both the same amount, only in two _very_ different ways."

"How do a mum and a father love each other?"

"Not quite like us. But what was I going to tell a ten year old boy? My parents never loved each other. It's a wonder that there was five of us."

"There were five of you?"

"Azelma and I were the only two that they cared for. My three brothers were gone all the time." Éponine continued to trace her finger along his shirt clad chest, tracing the groves of his scars. "But back to how we love each other."

Erik smirked, resting his hands on her hips and pulling her close to him. "I think actions are the only way to show how we love one another."

"But he may come out of his room." Éponine contradicted, despite giving him a seductive grin.

"We can wait until we know he's asleep."

"And do what in the mean time?" Éponine quipped, kissing the corner of his uncovered lip, nibbling at the lower lip.

Erik growled low in the back of his throat, "What do you think I'm thinking?" Reluctant to lose the feel of her so close to him he took her hand and lead her away from the secluded corner of the lair, back towards the well light, well furnished parts of the underworld. "Everything is as you left it. After I cleaned up the destruction I caused when I discovered you were gone."

"I'm sorry." Éponine said sheepishly, following him as he led her towards the swan bed. She had forgotten how magnificent the bed was. How many sweet memories they had shared there. How far they had come from their first time together.

"I've been hungering for you since we were on the ship." Erik murmured, brushing her hair away from her neck as he stood behind her. His hands skimmed up the curve of her hips, up the silken waist and past the blooms of her bosom. He felt her trembling beneath his touch. He unlaced his mask, discarding it to the table near the bed. "You know I have terrible self control."

"I do know. Which is why I find it unbearably entertaining to torment you." Éponine purred, pushing her bum back against him. She felt his teeth graze against her shoulder, making her gasp. "It has been too long to not want to tease you just a little bit longer. Just to make this beautiful moment go on forever."

"I want to worship you this time. Not that rushed lust I displayed at the manor. I want to _worship_ you." Erik's grip on her hips tightened, as he trailed kisses up the curve of her neck. She shuddered as she let her head drop back against his chest.

"I love you," Éponine rasped, helpless to do anything but stand and let him devout his time to kissing and nipping the tender skin on her neck. "I love you." She snaked her hand behind her, resting it on the nape of his neck, toying with the hair she found there.

"I love you." Erik groaned, pushing forward against him unconsciously. He turned her slowly, tantalizingly slow. He met her eyes, ablaze with the same fire that burned in his own. "Oh Éponine, how I have missed you."

Éponine leaned forward, cupping his cheek and pressing her lips against his. Their tongues darted out, warring with each other as their hands roamed across each other's bodies. Éponine fumbled with the buttons of his shirt while Erik tugged at the laces of her dress.

Her dress fell away easily once it was loosened, joining his now discarded shirt at their feet as they danced towards the bed. Erik cupped her bottom, pulling her up and letting her wrap her legs around his waist as the tumbled back onto the bed in a tangle of limbs.

~o~

Antoinette clapped her hands together to get the young girls' attention. The girls scurried into a line at the bar, foots out stretched in front of them ready to begin the dance again. Her own daughter still chatted away in the corner with her brunette friend.

"Meg, Christine, please." Antoinette frowned, giving them both disappointed glares. "If you ever want to succeed you two must always be ready to perform."

"Yes, Madame." Meg and Christine replied in unison as they lined up with the rest of the ballerinas.

Antoinette looked past the girls, seeing a man waving at her from the wing opposite from her, "Excuse me." With a backward glance at the young girls she stepped towards the wing, her eyes widening when she saw that it was Montparnasse.

"Antoinette."

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"One of your stage hands here is a friend of mine. Says he saw a trio arrive this evening. A masked man, a brunette girl, and... a boy."

"_She_ has returned." Antoinette said breathlessly, clutching her hand over her mouth. "No."

"The boy?"

"Is _their_ son." Antoinette glanced over her shoulder at the girls. Meg stood away from them, watching her mother, "Just as Meg is your daughter."

"What?"

"The secrets we all keep 'Parnasse."


	61. Chapter 61

Antoinette made her way down the passage ways that led to Erik's domain. For ten years he had been hers. Not how she had wanted it to be, but nearly there. Her plan to rid the world of Éponine had almost worked. Almost was never good enough. Like she was never good enough for Erik.

"I peer through windows. Watch life go by. Dream of tomorrow and wonder "why"? The past is holding me. Keeping life at bay. I wander lost in yesterday. Wanting to fly - but scared to try." Antoinette sang as she walked slowly, mournfully through the maze of twists and turns that led her to his underworld domain.

"But if someone like you. Found someone like me. Then suddenly nothing would ever be the same! My heart would take wing and I'd feel so alive. If someone like you found me!"

Not Éponine, not the undeserving whore that appeared out of nowhere and captured his heart. Not her. Never her.

But always her.

Ten years he lived and pinned for Éponine. Never accepting the comforting embrace of Antoinette no matter how hard she tried. What a life, that she'd never know.

But now, with Montparnasse back in her life and the secret of her paternity out. What chance did she have? "So many secrets I've longed to share! All I have needed is someone there. To help me see a world I've never seen before. A love to open every door. To set me free. So I can soar! If someone like you. Found someone like me. Then suddenly nothing would ever be the same!"

But it would never be. No matter how much she adored and cherished and worshipped Erik,he would never love her. There was too much between them now to ever be able to build a bridge.

"There'd be a new way to live. A new life to love, if someone like you. Found me! My heart would take wing. And I'd feel so alive. If someone like you. Loved me... Loved me... Loved me!"

But Antoinette could hear the music coming from his world, his world that didn't involved her or her daughter. He could hear Éponine's voice and his voice, singing a song that would never be meant for her.

~o~

Éponine had forgotten just how much she had missed their lessons. And how much she had missed his beautiful voice. Erik's voice was a voice like no one else. She wished that their musical had been a success, and not the failure of that evening. She wished everything had been different, but somehow they still managed.

Erik played the organ, opening his mouth and singing. "Sometimes I see past the horizon. Sure of my way, where I am going. But where's the prize I have my eyes on? Where? There is just no knowing!" He glanced over his shoulder at Éponine, giving her a simple smile before continuing. "And when despair tears me in two. Who can I turn to but you? You know who I am. Take me as I am."

Éponine took a deep breath before singing out, "Look in my eyes. Who do you see there? Someone you know or just a stranger? If you are wise, you will see me there! Love is the only danger! Love meaning me. Love meaning you. We'll make that one dream come true! You know who I am. Take me as I am."

His voice joined hers as they sang the next lines of the song, "Though fate won't always do what we desire. Still we can set the world on fire! Give me your hand. Give me your heart."

Erik's voice grew dark, "Swear to me we'll never part."

"We'll never part!"

"You know who I am."

"You know who I am."

"This is who I am."

"This is who I am."

Together their voices joined again as they sang the very last line, "Take me as I am." Éponine leaned down and pressed her lips against his lips, savouring the feel of kissing him. It felt so strange after ten years to be home, standing beside him as he played the organ. The very place she had once stood, afraid of who he was and what he could do. And now they had a son.

"Mother?" Erik called, as he managed his way past the curious statues and hoards of treasures and trinkets.

"We're here Erik." Éponine called back, turning to see where he was coming from. "Follow my voice."

"Coming." Erik called back as he stumbled over the broken arm of a statue. He couldn't help but feel frightened of all of the stone eyes staring at him as he passed them.

"Is my mask situated alright?" Erik questioned Éponine, squeezing her hand in his.

"You look fine." Éponine replied, nuzzling her nose against his cheek.

"Mhm," Erik laughed, catching her lips in a brief kiss. "You look gorgeous."

"Why, thank you." Éponine looked back over her shoulder again, seeing Erik ever cautiously making his way towards them. "One day he will accept you."

"I hope it's sooner rather than later."

"Oh," Erik said abruptly stopping as he looked up and saw his father beside his mother. "_He_ is still here."

"Erik, please." Éponine hissed, putting her hand on her hip. She knew Erik had to wonder where his mother had suddenly adopted the aggravated sound in her voice, the new concept of scolding, the new concept of a threatening tone. In their old life everything had been perfect, there was no need for discipline in a life led confined to inside a single wing of a manor. Everything had been, theoretically, perfect in his life.

"Mother, you don't understand." Erik pleaded, pouting slightly.

"You are both so similar that it is frightening," Éponine tried to laugh, but she only sounded more aggravated. "For my own sanity one day I expect you both to get along. I will give neither of you up."

"Éponine," Erik gritted, rising to his feet and staring off towards the lake. "We have a visitor."

"Oh God, no." Éponine's eyes grew wide as she turned to stare at the lake. "I had hoped, in vain, that the insufferable woman had left."

"She has a daughter now as well. Erik's age."

"The Christine girl?"

"No." Erik laughed coldly, "I'd never train her brat."

"Who is it?" Erik questioned innocently, straining his eyes to see whatever it was that his parents saw.

"An old friend," Éponine replied quickly, "Erik, why don't you go back to your room for a little while."

"But, I'm hungry."

"In a little bit." Éponine pressed, giving him a look that only a mother could produce. "Just for now. There are things that we need to discuss. Adult matters."

Erik glared at his father for a moment, wondering if the discussion had something to do with him. Everything had to do with the hideous monster that claimed to be his father. "Fine."

"Run along, Erik." Éponine said again as she could see, clearly now, Antoinette in the gondola.

**A/N: The two songs are from Jekyll & Hyde the musical. The first one is **_**Someone Like You**_**. The second is **_**Take Me As I Am**_**. **


	62. Chapter 62

Antoinette stepped out of the gondola and onto the coast of the shore with an air of everyday familiarity that slapped Éponine across the face. Just had she had aged, so had the ballerina, but the difference was that she had had the pleasure of aging in the lap of luxury. Or merely she had had the lap of luxury that consisted of being allowed the freedoms of the outdoors and the comfort of your friends and family. Éponine had no doubts that Antoinette would flaunt that aspect of the last ten years in her face. It had been her fault, after all, that Éponine had been taken away.

Éponine reached blindly for Erik's hand, finding it and squeezing it nervously. He laced his fingers with hers, massaging the pads of each finger against the back of her hand. Was he as nervous as she was? She felt like she was noticeably trembling with fear as Antoinette approached. For a lithe and rather horsey looking woman she struck fear into Éponine's heart. Fear that until her time beneath the Opera House, had never been there.

"Welcome back Éponine." Antoinette said with slow intended malice, her words coated in venom. "I'm sure you can tell that we have missed you."

"I doubt you've missed anything that concerns me." Éponine snapped, stepping close to Erik. He wrapped his arm around her waist, resting his hand on the flare of her hip.

"However, _I_ have missed Éponine if that is any consolation. But I believe there is a larger matter currently. Why are you here?" Erik set his jaw hard as he stared at Antoinette.

"I came to welcome Éponine home. She has been gone for so long." Antoinette laughed coldly as she strolled passed the couple. "Where is this boy that people say they saw?"

"Who saw us?" Éponine flinched as she strode past.

"No one important."

"_Who_?" Erik snarled, reaching out and grabbing the petite woman's arm.

"Montparnasse." Antoinette chortled, turning back and giving Erik and Éponine a melancholy grin. "But does he really matter anymore to either of you?"

"He saw us?" Éponine asked, squeezing Erik's hand.

"No, but a stage hand saw a masked man, a pretty brunette, and a little boy heading towards the Opera House. They just so happened to bump into 'Parnasse – who in return told me." Antoinette ran her hands over the keys of the organ. "But that's beside the point, where is your little bundle of joy?"

"He's had a very long journey, he's resting." Éponine answered quickly, "He does not need you to hear your slander either."

"Moi?" Antoinette laughed. "You mean he doesn't need to hear what I think of his whore mother and murdering father?"

"It would behove you to keep silent." Erik threatened, taking a menacing step towards her. "I believe you have a daughter. Which would be quite tragic if she _vanished_." Erik glanced over his shoulder at Éponine, giving her a warm smile. "Perhaps Meg would like to take a ten year vacation to a confining wing of a manor home?"

"You wouldn't."

"I would."

Antoinette flustered as he stared at them, "I only wanted to meet this son. He is _your_ son isn't he Erik?"

"Yes." Erik snapped, "It is time for you to go. Ah, on your return you can inform Christine that her lessons will resume tonight."

"I'm not your footman." Erik stepped closer to Antoinette and she wilted, "I will tell Christine."

"That's what I thought I heard you say." Erik watched as Antoinette scurried back to the coast. No matter how strong she pretended she was, he always found the upper hand. She wasn't nearly as vicious as she had been ten years ago.

"I'll meet your young ward then?" Éponine asked after a long moment of silence.

"Perhaps Erik will find a friend in Christine. She is a friendly girl. Is Erik?"

"He has his moments. Occasionally a servant brought his or her son or daughter to visit with Erik. He did well. We'll see." Éponine wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against the flat of his shoulder blade.

~o~

Erik sat at the organ, hitting one key after the other. He had only been experienced with a harpsichord. The sounds that this new instrument made were heavenly. He had been toying with the instrument for hours now. It kept his mind off of his mother and _his father_ sitting around laughing and talking.

The music took away the pain of the jealousy.

"Erik," Éponine called as she came out to find him. "Your father's gone up to get a visitor. Would you like to meet her?"

"Who is she?"

"Her name's Christine. She a student of his. I don't really know her." Éponine gave the boy a soft smile as she watched him continuing to play different notes and testing what sounds sounded good together. He was a younger version of his father.

"How old is she?"

"Around the same age as you. He says she very sweet. I wish you could be friends with her, Erik. I want you to have a somewhat normal life here." Éponine rubbed his back gently, "So, please, try to accept all of this."

"I don't like him."

"Why?"

Erik turned and looked at his mother, "There's just something I don't like about him. I don't like you with him."

"I love him Erik. We've been through this. I want you to like him, but even if you don't I'll still be with him."

"But why?"

Éponine sat down beside Erik at the organ, "When you love someone you want to be with them, no matter what happens. I spent ten years without him. I don't want to spend another day separated from him. I love him. No matter who comes between us, we will always be together."

"Isn't my opinion important?"

"About everything except this. I want you to like him but if it's going to take time then I'll wait."

"Are you going to have another baby?"

Éponine burst out into laughter, "Where did that come from?"

"I was just wondering. People in books always have more than one child."

Éponine took a deep breath, "Maybe. I don't really know." She wouldn't mind having another child with Erik. He wanted their world to be full of children, their laughter and their little voices. But could they honestly deal with another child? A new baby would at least give Erik the chance to be a father.

"So would I be a brother?"

"Yes," Éponine smiled, patting Erik on the head. "That's if it happens. I don't really know." She expected her alone time with Erik to be far and few between the more that their son became comfortable with his new environment. Unless the few times they'd been together so far had proven very productive she doubted that they'd have a new baby any time soon.

"Éponine, Erik come and meet Christine." Erik's voice startled them as he strode down through the lair from one of the other entrances.

Éponine rose to her feet, tugging Erik along behind her. Erik stood beside a small, wide-eyed girl whose hair plumed out behind her in a tangle of chocolate curls.

"It's nice to meet you." Éponine said giving the girl a sweet smile. "This is Erik and I's son, Erik. Say hello Erik."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Erik said, giving a little bow towards Christine.

"The pleasure is mine," Christine gave an awkward curtsy, giggling at her mistake. "I'm good at ballet but not very good with balance."

"Come Christine, let's begin your lesson. Erik, would you care to come and watch?" Erik offered, trying to entice his son to be part of his life.

Erik glanced up at Éponine, asking silent permission. "Of course you can dear."

**A/N: Long enough chapter for you dears? **


	63. Chapter 63

"Here Christine", Erik said after they had thoroughly warmed up her voice. "This is a reprise to another song that I have written. I think it will suite your voice well."

Christine nodded her head, taking the sheet music in her hands and looking over the notes and words. "It looks very nice."

"May I?" The young boy asked, looking over her shoulder. "You wrote this?"

"Yes." Erik laughed at his son's response to the music. "Now, Christine."

Christine cleared her throat before Erik began playing the song, "What would I give to live where you are? What would I pay to stay here beside you? What would I do to see you smiling at me? Now there's a dream. Now there's a goal. Now there's a need I'll never control.  
I won't get free. Till I can be part of your world."

"Very good." Erik urged as he continued to play.

"What would I give if I could live outta these waters? What would I pay to spend a day holding your hand? I'd give my life. I'd sell my soul. 'Cause I can feel I'll never be whole. But I can see I'll never be part of your world."

"Very good Christine, I am very pleased."

Christine beamed under his reassuring, "Does your wife sing?"

"Mother sings beautifully." Erik answered for his father, "You should have her sing."

"Should I now?" Erik laughed, motioning for Éponine to come to the organ. "Your voice is desired."

"That's the only reason you keep me around," Éponine chuckled, resting her hand against his shoulder. "What song will it be?"

Erik shook his head, taking her hand and kissing it. "That is not the only thing I desire from you." He couldn't help the smile that curved his lips, the hotness in his eyes. He loosened his cravat, before turning his attention back to finding a song for her to sing.

Éponine laughed his sudden flustering, smirking at the fumbling way his hands moved through the sheets of music. "Erik, dear, are you enjoying watching the lesson?"

"It's very interesting." Erik smiled up at his mother before look towards Christine, "You have a beautiful voice. Very high and sweet. Different from my mother's. She's the only voice I've ever heard."

"Here you are Éponine." Erik handed her several sheets of music, "I am sure you'll recognize that it was written in your absence."

"Your best work appears to have come from my disappearance," Éponine replied as she read over the song.

He began to play the music that swelled around them, she took a deep breath and started singing. "There's been a change in me. A kind of moving on. Though what I used to be  
I still depend on. For now I realize That good can come from bad. That may not make me wise . But oh it makes me glad. And I- I never thought I'd leave behind. My childhood dreams. But I don't mind. For now I love the world I see. No change of heart a change in me."

Erik took a deep breath and started singing, "For in my dark despair I slowly understood. My perfect world out there had disappeared for good. But in it's place I feel a truer life begin. And it's so good and real it must come from within."

Christine smiled, "And I- I never thought I'd leave behind. My childhood dreams but I don't mind. I'm where and who I want to be. No change of heart. A change in me."

Together their voices joined together to finish the last part of the song, "No change of heart,  
a change in me." Éponine leaned down and pressed a kiss against her husband's cheek, resting her forehead against his cheek.

Christine and Erik both joined in clapping joyously. Éponine turned to see that their son lacked his once envy, replaced was appreciation. One creative to another creative. Erik's music had entranced their son.

"I believe your lesson is done for this evening Christine." Erik laughed, kissing Éponine quickly before looking towards the two children.

"May Erik come with me? I can show him around the Opera House?" Christine asked softly, giving Éponine a hopeful smile. "I promise we won't get into any trouble."

"I don't know-" Éponine started.

"Please Mother?"

"Oh," Éponine glanced towards the elder Erik who shrugged his shoulders. "Alright. But, Erik, listen to me. Do not leave the Opera House, do not go anywhere with anyone other than Christine. Do you understand me?"

"Yes Mother. Thank you Mother."

"Christine, you know the way out."

"Yes, thank you Monsieur." Christine curtseyed politely, taking Erik's hand and leading the way. They started chittering and chattering as they left. Éponine couldn't help but feel a swell of pride as her son walked off with a new friend. She had been his only true friend for ten years. To see him with someone else, filled her with happiness.

"Making friends already." Éponine laughed, moving to sit on Erik's lap, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"If only he would accept me like he's accepted Christine." Erik replied mournfully, he took her free hand in his hands, bringing it to his lips to kiss it several times.

"Oh, I think he has." Éponine laced her fingers with his, stroking her thumb across the coarse scars that covered his elegant hand. "You didn't see the look on his face when you and I were singing. The look of admiration as you played. He is a creative, he saw the similarities between the two of you and appreciated what you were capable of. He admires you."

"You think?"

"Yes." Éponine reached behind his head and tugged at the lace of his mask, letting the porcelain mask fall away. She laid the mask on the organ before turning back and tracing a finger along the curves of the disfigurement. "You have won his appreciation."

"Have I won your appreciation?" Erik gave a low growl that vibrated in his throat as he stared at her with clouded eyes. Éponine laughed suddenly, making Erik's eyebrow shoot up curiously. "That's funny then?"

"No," Éponine gave him a tender kiss, laughing again. "Erik wanted to know if we were going to have more children."

Erik gave her a nervous chuckle, "What was your answer?"

"I said I didn't know. I don't really expect us to have much alone time once he's curiously roaming around the lair constantly and not sulking in his room. But here we are alone."

"Do you want another child?"

"I want you to get to be a father, Erik." Éponine cupped his cheek, "I want you to hold your baby before he's ten years old. I want your child to love you from the beginning of their life. I want you to experience the joy's you've been denied."

Erik let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes and resting his forehead in the crook of her neck. "I want you to want this too. Don't make this all about me."

"But it is all about you. My life is about you. I _love you_." Éponine leaned towards him and kissed his lips, he pulled her closer to him, shifting her weight on his lap. She wanted to make up for the ten years of his child's life that he had lost. She wanted to give him a child that he could raise with her.

**A/N: The song Christine sings is a the unused Part Of Your World reprise from A Little Mermaid and the song that Eponine and Erik sings is Change in Me from Beauty & the Beast. **

**Does anyone know of a good song young Erik and Christine could sing together?**


	64. Chapter 64

Erik wrapped his arms around Éponine, holding her close to his chest. He craved the moments he got with her. Moments like this. Moments where they could be bare to each other, everything that was them could be exposed to each other. He lived from moment to moment.

He brushed his lip against her shoulder, letting his hands rest on the small of her back. "I believe we have no choice but to have a larger family. You're irresistible." Erik skimmed his hands up and down her back.

"There were bells on the hill. But I never heard them ringing. No, I never heard them at all. Till there was you." Christine sang softly as she kissed his chest. "There were birds in the sky. But I never saw them winging. No, I never saw them at all. Till there was you."

Erik smiled as he listened to her singing, "And there was music and there were wonderful roses. They tell me, in sweet fragrant meadows of dawn, and dew. There was love all around. But I never heard it singing. No, I never heard it at all. Till there was you!" Éponine leaned up and kissed him on the lips.

"Do you agree that it's going to be hard to control the size of our family?"

"Yes." Éponine chuckled, rolling away from him and brushing her hair back out of her face. "After ten years I thought that I would never be able to see you again. I didn't know if I saw you again if we would be the same. But we are." She kissed him again. "We are the same."

~o~

"What do you think of the Opera Populaire." Christine asked, smiling as she swung their arms back and forth as they walked down the hallway.

"It's beautiful." Erik beamed, looking around at everything his eyes met. "It's massive. It's brilliant."

"Christine?" A voice called down the hall after Christine and Erik, "Is that you?"

Nervously Erik pulled his hand out of her grasp, "Who is it?"

"Meg!" Christine glanced at her friend, "It's just Meg. She's like my sister."

"Does she perform here as well?"

"Yes," Christine motioned for Meg to come after them. "Come meet my friend Erik?"

"Of course," Meg pranced up the hallway towards her friend, eyeing the boy warily. "I'm Meg Giry."

"Erik, er, Erik. Just Erik." Erik replied nervously, noticing that both girls had surnames and he lacked one. At least he lacked one that he was aware of. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Are you a stagehand's son?" Meg asked curiously, shaking his hand.

"He's my teacher's son." Christine replied when she realised Erik didn't know what to say.

"He's _his_ son?"

"Yes."

"Mother mentioned this to me. She says that, well. Nevermind."

Erik shied, "Yes I am _his_ son, but not willingly. I wish that I were still at the manor," He looked to Christine, "Partially."

Christine giggled softly, "Come along Erik, there's much more to see." She took his hand in hers and pulled him along the corridor. She half wanted to show him the wonders of the opera house and half wanted to get him away from Meg, who seemed to be determined to instigate some sort of argument.

~o~

"Sing with me my dear?" Erik whispered, ghosting his lips along the back of her neck as she sat reading over a few of his novels. She had taught herself to read quite well since she had last been in the lair.

"Do you even need to ask?" Éponine laughed, reaching her hand behind her head and touching his cheek. "What song do you have in mind?"

"This." He produced a few sheets of music, the neatly scrawled title reading _Closer Than Ever_.

"This is what you've been composing for the last few hours?"

"Yes. It just came to me, more than any song has in a long while."

Éponine smiled, following him to the organ. "I do hope Erik is enjoying his tour of above ground. I do want he and Christine to be friends. But I can't help but wonder."

"I pray that he progresses past his current disposition. He is far too much like me and I wouldn't wish any child to have my personality. Perhaps Christine can do the same that you have done for me."

Éponine smirked at him and gave him a quick kiss, "Hopefully not all of the same things."

Erik met her smirk, before turning his attention back to spreading the sheet music out on the backboard of the organ. "I didn't write it out yet, but I sing from the beginning to the first _before_. Then you and I, then just you and then me, th-"

"We've sang enough to know, I know the way you write." Éponine rested her hand on his shoulder, motioning for him to begin to play. She listened to the melodies that she had heard for what felt like hours, it had only been background music as she had read through the novel.

"There'll come a morning. When we'll awaken. Closer than ever. Slowly but surely. Sooner or later. Closer than ever. Breathing the same air. Dreaming the same dreams. Closer than ever before."

Éponine joined his voice, "There'll come a moment. When I will hold you closer than ever. Fairy-tale romance, princess and hero, closer than ever. Like an old story. Where strangers end up closer than ever before."

Alone she sang, feeling the lyrics cutting through her heartstrings. "All of a sudden. Just like a shower  
Our love will flower. Life will have meaning."

"Worth living for."

"Worth living for."

"Worth dying for."

"Worth dying for."

Éponine squeezed his shoulder tighter as their voices joined again one last time, "There'll come a morning when we'll awaken closer than ever." She let her eyes close as he continued out the song. "_Beautiful_." She whispered sinking onto the bench beside him, she let her head sag to the side and her cheek rest against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close.

"Oh, yes, that was _beautiful _alright. Beautifully revolting." Antoinette clapped her hands together sarcastically. She approached where they sat, almost stealthily.

Erik rose to his feet quickly, startled by the blond woman's sudden appearance. "Antoinette, I thought we had rid ourselves of you already."

"It appears you have not. But, please, don't let me interrupt your little romantic evening. What have you run that bastard off?"

"He's not a bastard!" Éponine snarled, rising to her feet beside Erik. He grabbed her arm, holding her back as she started to lunge forward. "If you haven't noticed I am married to Erik and he is the father of my son. There is nothing of a bastard about him. However, you feel the desire to call him one then you will not mind that I will call you a whore and your daughter a little bitch."

"Éponine." Erik soothed, despite his own rise of anger. "This solves nothing."

"No, it solves everything. Ten years of words have been saved for a moment like this. You can thank God above, or perhaps whatever demon it is you sold your black heart and soul too, Antoinette Giry, that my son was here the last time you chose to rear your hideous head."

"You think you're any better than me? Weren't you a whore, urchin?" Antoinette laughed coldly, crossing her arms across her chest. She had shown no sign that any word Éponine flung at her had affected her.

"I was a whore. I'm not proud of that, but I am well aware of what I _was_. However as soon as I found someone I loved, I settled down and was utterly satisfied with that life. But what is this? You were engaged and you couldn't keep your legs closed for only him. Not to mention being insanely jealous over the man you've pined for for your whole life. You are a pathetic excuse for a role model for the girls here. No wonder ballerinas have a reputation for being patron's whores."

"Éponine, that's enough." Erik urged, his grip on her arm tightening enough that she would perhaps have bruises there in the morning. It wasn't so much his anger towards what she was saying to Antoinette. Every word she said he felt as well. But it was the fact that Antoinette stood so unscathed by her words that pushed him past any form of anger he could control. But he was afraid that the moment he lashed out at Antoinette, wrapped the Punjab around her scrawny and deserving throat, that Erik would walk in and see him in all of his horrid glory.

"It's not enough Erik!" Éponine screamed, tears had burst from her eyes. She didn't even know why, but there they were. "It's not enough to make up for the ten years we lost. We lost them because she is a selfish whore. They'll never be given back to us. Ten years!" She broke away from his hold, charging at Antoinette in a blind rage.

Antoinette merely laughed as the woman ran towards her. In a blur of blond and brown hair they met each other, tumbling to the stone floor with shouts and screams. Erik hurried towards the scuffle, trying to make heads and tails of the situation as the woman continued to roll, kick, scratch, and shout at each other.

Before he could pull Éponine from the scuff, he heard her cry out. It was unlike the other cries, it wasn't just a cry of irritation and frustration or a hot-tempered shout. No, it was a cry of pain. Éponine fell away from Antoinette, clutching her stomach.

"No." Erik breathed in disbelief, paying no attention to Antoinette as she rose and backed away slowly. She hadn't been a fool to come to their world and not be armed. It was nothing much, but it had done the damage that she had wished to inflict.

"Erik." Éponine cried, clutching the letter open that was dug into her stomach. Blood stained her white dress, spreading out from the wound as the clothe soaked up the crimson flow. "I didn't mean for thi-"

"Don't." Erik hissed, prying her hands away from the silver blade and pulling it from her abdomen. "Shh. Don't cry." His hands were stained red as he pressed his palms against the wound, trying to stop the blood. He looked over his shoulder at Antoinette, "You, get help. Get help. Or so help my God, you will die before this night is through!"

Antoinette stood, a mix of shock and satisfaction flooding her emotions. Meg flashed in her mind and she knew that his wrath would not stop at her death – Meg would be an end at the end of a hang man's noose if Erik had any say. And in the Opera House, no matter who contradicted, the Phantom of the Opera had all of the say. She hesitated, catching one last mental image of the damage she had finally managed to inflict on Éponine, before she rushed from the underworld.

"It's going to be alright, mon amour." Erik whispered, pressing one palm against the wound and resting his other at her cheek, leaving a smear of blood behind as he returned it to her stomach. "I promise you. We are not going to be separated again. Not by woman and not by death."

"Oh, Erik." Éponine mumbled, batting her eyes a few times as her vision started to blur. "Erik, please. Don't let me die. Not now. We have so much time."

"Ten years will mean nothing if you die, Éponine." Erik pleaded, pressing harder against her wound. "For our son and our future children, stay alive!"

**A/N: I have no idea what happened. This chapter was not planned (nor were any of the other last 64 chapters). But. Gah. That was really unexpected. Curse you mindAntoinette for doing that to my little mindEppie. I didn't see that coming. Oh my. **

**Also I apologize for the wait on this one. I do promise that happiness will eventually come from this story. **


	65. Chapter 65

Erik lifted Éponine carefully, moving to lay her down in the swan bed. He kept his hand pressed against her stab wound, cursing the God above that he would allow the bitch ballerina to do such a thing to his beloved. He never thought he could care so much for one person in the world. He had lost her for ten agonizing years and he was not just about to lose her for eternity. Éponine was a good soul, she had done little wrong in life except the situations that had been thrust upon her: she was a soul destined for heaven. While he had done so much wrong, that he knew his soul was damned to an eternity in hell. Life had tried to separate them, but death would surely split them apart.

"For our son, Éponine." Erik urged, slapping her cheek to jar her back into consciousness. "Stay with me."

"I'm trying." She replied weakly, her eyes fluttering open and closed. Tears spilled from her eyes, "It hurts."

"As long as it hurts it means you're alive." Erik pulled his hand away from her stomach, looking down at the wound. He'd been treating his own wounds and injuries for years, for the entirety of his life. But, he'd never had to treat a wound of the severity before. He had never been stabbed.

"Please, tell our Erik, that." Éponine shook her head, "Tell him that I love him."

"No. No, no. No you don't. No goodbyes." Erik reached across the bed for one of her chemises that was laid there ready for bed. He ripped the thin material into a strip, balling the material up and pressing it against the wound. "I need you to press your hand into this."

Éponine gasped as she pressed her hand into the wound, pain streaking through her body. "Oh God. Please."

"Stay alive Éponine. There is physician above ground. He's here in case a ballerina or stage hand is injured. I will make him come here to take care of you."

"Hurry."

~o~

"This place is incredible." Erik starred around the auditorium, his mouth open as he took in the surroundings.

"I'm glad that you're enjoying this trip." Christine replied, smiling as she watched the boy absorb the vast room. "This is where the shows are put on, where the audience sits and enjoys it."

"Thank you for showing me all of this Christine." Erik grinned, his normal disposition completely transformed by the brunette ballerina. "I'm glad I have somewhere to go that's not so dark and dismal like the world my mother seems so fine with living in."

"My maestro's world is a beautiful labyrinth. It's more fantasy than real life. I'm sure you'll come to love it." Christine laughed in a very girlish way, "It's a very ancient saying, but a true and honest thought. That if you become a teacher by your pupils you'll be taught."

Erik smiled, admiring Christine's fair voice as she sang to him.

"As a teacher I've been learning. You'll forgive me if I boast - and I've now become an expert, on the subject I like most. Getting to know you. Getting to know to know all about you. Getting to like you. Getting to hope you like me."

"Oh I do."

"Getting to know you. Putting it my way, but nicely. You are precisely. My cup of tea." Christine grinned at him, taking his hand and leading him through the auditorium, "Haven't you noticed  
suddenly I'm bright and breezy? Because of all the beautiful and new things I'm learning about you  
day by day." Christine led him back towards where the offices were, "Getting to know you. Getting to feel free and easy when I am with you. Getting to know what to say."

"I should probably be getting back _home_." Erik said, looking around at the bustling people. "I don't want to leave mother with him very long."

"You love your mother very much don't you?"

"Yes. Do you love yours?"

"She died giving birth to me and my father passed away a few years ago. Madame Giry is much a mother to me, but she does not act as kind as your mother."

"Did you love your father?"

"He was my world." Christine looked down sadly, as she looked up she saw a shadow moving along the wall. "Maestro?"

The Phantom stood, white mask standing out against the shroud of darkness around him. He place a finger to his lips, "Hush child."

"You." Erik hissed slightly, "Did you not trust me to be good?"

"No, of course not." Erik dismissed his son's anger. "Christine, go and get the doctor it's an emergency."

"What's wrong with mother?"

"There was an accident-"

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?" Erik screamed, lunging towards the masked man. "What have you done?"

"It was not my doing," Erik batted his son away, trying not to hurt him in response. He was not one to be so passive when fists fell against him, but it was his son dolling out the damage. "Christine. _Go_."

"Yes maestro." Christine curtsied, scurrying aware from the father and son and rushing to find the physician.

"What happened?" Erik pressed, glaring up at the masked man. "Where's mother?"

"_Enough_!" Erik snarled, balling his fist in anger. "This is neither the time nor the place to be discussing this. Once Christine has fetched the physician and we are all safely bellow ground I will tell you what happened."

Erik flinched, expecting the man that was his father to hit him. There was a venom in his voice that he had heard one of the butlers use with a maid back at the manor house, and that butler had brought his hand across the girl's face. "Has she been hurt?"

"Yes." Erik gritted, seeing Christine return alone. "Where is the physician?"

"He says that he will not come without explanation and I'm sorry, but I didn't know what to say."

Erik nodded his head, understandingly, "Christine, take Erik bellow – I will follow shortly. If you could, perhaps stay on the entrance shore until I return for you. I need to you to avoid the mainland for just a few hours."

"Mother-"

"Christine, take him please." Erik urged, patting the petite girl's shoulder, "I will reward you with a full day of vocal lessons and permission to leave your dance rehearsals for the day."

"I would like that." Christine smiled, turning back to see the grave look of irritation on the younger Erik's face. "Come, I can show you the wonder's of that way to the lair."

"I want to know if my mother is alright."

"She isn't." Erik retorted, before turning on his heels and vanishing into the shadows.

"That monster has harmed her! I told her he would."

Christine shook her head, "He wouldn't hurt a soul. He is a good man. He is an angel of music."

"The angel of music was Lucifer." Erik snarled, staring into the void of darkness where his father had vanished. If something had happened to his mother, he would never be able to forgive the man in the mask.


	66. Chapter 66

"He said to stay on the coast!" Christine cried out, watching Erik dive into the water. "He told you to stay!" She could understand his determination. The physicians had been hesitant to let her see her father when he lay dying. Was Erik's mother dying? She couldn't imagine her maestro harming her, she could see the love in his eyes. He had been so hollow before and then he seemed full of joy.

"Mother!" Erik screamed as he reached the opposite coast, rushing past candles and stacks of sheet music. He made his way to the swan bed and collapsed onto the side of the bed. "Oh Mother!"

"Erik?" Éponine's eyes opened slowly, "Where's your father?" She brushed her fingers across the young boy's dark hair, "I need you father."

"He did this to you!" Erik howled, burying his face into his mother's arm.

"No he didn't." Éponine shook her head, cringing in pain. "He didn't do anything to hurt me."

"Who did?"

Éponine coughed, "Antoinette…"

"Mother, what's going to happen?" Erik felt tears stream down his cheeks as he glanced down his mother's body to see the blood staining her dress. "I can't lose you!"

"You're not… going too." She couldn't imagine losing her son and the man that she loved, not because of Antoinette. She had lost ten years of their lives, she wasn't losing the rest of her son's life. "I love you."

"I love you too mother." Erik sniffled, clutching her hand tightly, as if to keep her from going anywhere. "He went to get the doctor."

"Who?" Éponine asked with a little, pained, laugh. She was curious to see what he would say.

"The man in the mask." Erik retorted, he stiffened when he saw his mother's disappointed expression. "My father."

"If I do not make i-"

"You will! I kno-"

"Hush, Erik." Éponine squeezed his hand. "If I don't live… please don't fight with him… He won't take this well at all. He'll lose himself if I die, I know he will. But I need you to be my brave little son. I need you to love him as your father."

"But!"

"No buts."

Erik hung his head, looking up and towards the coast at the sudden sound of splashing in the water. "Christine!"

"I hear him coming!" Christine shouted, "With the doctor!" As she crossed the lake, she foolishly remembered how she could not swim. Her father had always promised that he would teach her how to swim, but he never had. She waded carefully across the pool of water, keeping her head above the water.

She should have listened to her maestro instead of following after his son.

"I can't swim!" She shouted finally, defeated as she felt her skirts wrap around her legs and drag her beneath the surface.

Erik looked back over his shoulder towards the lake, looking between his new friend and his mother. "I can't leave you!" He clung to his mother tightly, but glancing back towards the splashing sounds of Christine.

"Help her."

There had been two times that Erik had been allowed outside of the Manor house, and she had taken those opportunities to teach him to swim, in case they ever did escape and needed to use that skill.

Erik didn't waste a second to go to save his new friend. He dove into the water and swam towards her, using every ounce of strength that he had to haul her up from out of the water. "Keep your head up." He muttered as he tried to help her back towards the coast.

Christine coughed and sputtered as she held onto Erik as he pulled her out of the water and onto the coast. "Thank you. I'm sorry…" She laid back against the coast, her plume of wet curls stuck to her wet dress.

"It's alright." Erik gave her a little smile as he looked up to see his _father_ entering into the underworld.

Little time was wasted once Erik had arrived with the doctor. He had had to threaten the lives of everyone the doctor held dear to force him to tend to Éponine. Not only to tend to Éponine but not to do anything that could kill Éponine.

The doctor was careful with what he did, terrified of the masked man leering at him. He mended the knife wound as best as he could, burning the wound to keep it from breath any further and stitching it closed with straight clean stitches. It was all he could for the poor woman.

"Have you reported the attack?" The doctor questioned Erik, glancing over his shoulder at him as he cleaned Éponine's wound.

"No." The masked man was apparently a man of few words.

"How did it happen?"

Erik gave him a blank stare, feeling no need to respond to him.

"I am done with her stitchery. She needs to be kept in this bed for at least two weeks; she may then start smaller jaunts away from the bed. You do _not_ want her to rip her stitches do you?"

"_No_." Erik gritted.

"She does not appear to have stabbed into any vital organs. Whoever stabbed her, may not know that they stabbed directly into an empty space between the ribs. Just shy of her lungs. She is lucky to be alive."

"You may go now."

The doctor gaped at the masked man's cold demeanor, "Yes… Yes of course." He quickly and clumsily gathered his tools into his medical bag. He watched the man as he knelt beside the bed. He could hardly believe that such an evil seeming man could be so gently with the woman. The masked man dropped gentle kisses along the woman's face, whispering sweetly to her and stroking his gloved hands through her hair.

Erik rose to his feet suddenly, straightening out his blood stained white shirt. "Come with me and.." Erik paused to grab a black cloth off of one of his busts. "Wear this so you forget where you came."

"Uh.. Yes.. Of course." The doctor mumbled, hesitant to trust this man with his sight.

"I love you Éponine." Erik whispered, pressing a final kiss to her lips as he pushed the doctor out of the lair. "Stay with your mother," Erik gestured towards the younger Erik, letting him know that he could return to his mother's side. The doctor had be hesitant to allow such a young child near while had operated on Éponine.

"Mother." Erik sat on the edge of the bed beside his mother, looking down at her as she stirred slightly. He had heard the doctor talking about giving her some sort of substance to make her lose consciousness until he had finished. "You're alive!"

"I am." She took a deep breath, taking her son's hands in hers. "If I have anything to say about it I'm not leaving."

**A/N: Ugh… This chapter drove me insane. If you had ANY idea how many bloody times I rewrote this and rewrote this. It drove me absolutely insane. **


	67. Chapter 67

"Go home child," Erik shooed Christine away as he sat down beside Eponine on the bed. He took her hand and squeezed her weak grasp.

"No, let her stay." Eponine whispered, glancing between Christine and her son. The younger Erik did not seem excited about being left alone down there alone. "Perhaps she can sing for all of us."

"Oh…" Christine's eyes opened wide with delight. "I wouldn't want to cause any trouble."

"Could mother sing?"

Erik turned to look at Eponine, meeting her gaze. "I don't think that tha-"

"No. I want to sing. Help me up."

"The doctor said to stay in be-"

"Since when do _you_ listen to anyone?" Eponine chuckled as she scooted into a sitting position. She raised her arms and waited until Erik rested his arms beneath her legs and behind her back. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, resting her head against the crook of his neck. "A song can make everyone feel better."

"A song could kill you. Your stitches." Erik whispered into her, lest Erik hear him.

"I'll be fine."

"What song?" Erik questioned sitting her down at the piano.

"There was a song that I found here." Eponine groaned as she reached for the sheet music. "Here."

Erik stared at the music, "Fly, Fly Away it is then." With a hesitant glance to Eponine he started playing the song.

"When I was a child, my eyes were clear, I saw the good side." Eponine started, trying to keep singing through the pain that threatened to overcome her. She knew she was bigger than the pain. "That's the kind of second sight that doesn't last too long. Then when I was lost, I heard a voice that brought me healing. That's the kind of special hope he brought me with his song."

Christine and Erik smiled at each other as they listened to Eponine singing.

"People only saw the monster, murderer, masked man. But he was just a lonely little boy to me. With his sweet and gentle touch, he sure unlocked my soul. So in return I surely want to help to set him free." Eponine grimaced, but shook her head when Erik wanted to stop. "Now I wanna see him fly, fly. I'll be your alibi my baby. We didn't get to say goodbye, goodbye. No need to tell me why, my baby. Maybe it's because you'll fly back home to me one day."

Eponine took a deep breath before starting the next part of the song, "Men who you call real were really fakes who left me nothing. But this man you call a fake gave me something real. I've known cruel men with Christian names that taught me manners. But this man without a name taught me how to feel. They only saw the magic tricks, the smoke and mirrors." Eponine felt the hairs on her neck stand on end as the lyrics sank in. They were so true when it came to their relationship. Especially when she was taken from him. "Was I the only to ever see the boy? So now they want to clip his precious wings and bring him down. But in his heart and soul's the kind of good they can't destroy. So now I wanna see him fly, fly. I'll be your alibi, my baby. Fly, fly, fly away. We didn't get to say goodbye, goodbye. No need to tell me why, my baby. Maybe it's because you'll fly back home to me one day."

Eponine started coughing, "I'm alright."

"You should be resting. Singing like this can't be good for your injury." Erik placed a reassuring arm around her waist. "Let me take you back to the bed. You shouldn't be up, you were just stitched up a few hours ago." Erik placed a kiss to her temple.

Eponine shook her head, determined not to be bound to the bed. But she couldn't fight Erik lifting her up into his arms. She gave an unsatisfied groan of protest, but was helpless to be hauled back to the bed. "I'm going to be fine."

"I'm not losing my _alibi_." Erik whispered into her ear. "I wrote that song when you were gone. It was for a musical I tried to write. But I'd lost my muse."

"It's beautiful." Eponine looked past Erik, "Could you please find that poor girl something to wear? She fell into the lake and she is still soaking wet. You don't want your young pupil to catch a cold down here. I don't think our son could bear two people being ill."

"He thought I'd done this to you." Erik ghosted his hand over her stomach, "In a way I have. It's because of me that there's this rivalry between Antoinette and you. For those ten years I allowed that woman to be my friend again and now look how she deceives me."

"How could you know?"

"I should have known that she would be the cause of your disappearance." Erik kissed her gently. "But if I had rid the opera house of her, then I would have never found you."

"Mhm." Eponine mumbled as she started to drift to sleep. "Go have Erik and Christine sing something sweet to send me off to sleep.

"I'll see what I can do."

"He knows a song."

"Erik, can you play your mother a song for sleep?"

"Oh yes!" Erik grinned, "Sing with me Christine?"

"Yes." She nodded, wrapping her arms around her slim body and shivering.

"There's a sad sort of clanking from the clock in the hall. And the bells in the steeple too. And up in the nursery an absurd little bird is popping up to say cukoo! Cukoo! Cukoo! Regretfully they tell us, but firmly they compel us to say goodbye to you." Erik sang the song that he had been taught as a little boy, grinning as his voice now found a second voice to sing with.

Eponine grinned up at her husband, "They are like you and me."

"But he is a handsome child."

"And you are a handsome man."

**A/N: Just a sweet little chapter. The first song is "Fly, Fly Away" from the musical Catch Me if You Can. Three words were changed because Erik was never a , "Doctor, Lawyer, Indian Chief." Was he? Anyways listen to that song if you don't know it. It's amazing. Kerry Butler is brilliant.**

**The second song is "So Long Farwell" from the Sound of Music. It's such an awesome song for little kids. I might go to SoM for more songs for little Erik and Christine.**

**So, this was totally a feel good chapter opposed to a plot chapter. There might be a few of these or I might skip a head a bit. What's your opinion? My opinion is that I'm starting Uni in 2 days, (well move in and then classes in a week's time) but I have 18 credit hours of History and English on my plate. Be kind. **


	68. Chapter 68

Erik laid closely to Eponine as he slipped into their bed. He had made sure that Erik returned home from wandering around the Opera House with Christine and was safely in his bed, before he could settle in for the night. He rested his arm over her waist, careful not to touch her stitches.

"You didn't take your mask off." Eponine murmured, as she rolled over in bed. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his.

"I was tired and ready to sleep." Erik replied, kissing her lips gently. "You can't argue with me wanting to find peace beside you in bed can you?"

"Uh-uh." Eponine yawned, placing her hand over his mask. With a gentle, yet forceful, tug she removed the mask. She reached past him, hissing slightly, as she laid the mask on the bedside table. "Is our little one in bed?"

"Safe and sound."

"Is he growing closer to you?"

"Not yet, not that I've seen. He wants nothing to do with conversations with me." Erik sighed, letting the weight slip off of his shoulders. He let out a contented purr-like sound as she stroked his disfigurement. Her fingers were bliss against the ruined skin.

"Have patience." Eponine replied wisely, ghosting her lips against his. "Sing for me."

"Eponine, _I am tired_."

"I waited up for you."

Erik sighed reluctantly, "If I said I loved you. All my life I loved you. Would the line be crossed? Would the words make sense? Would the thought be cause for concern? Would you turn to frost? Would you take offense? Or perchance feel love in return?"

Eponine smiled, "If I said I loved you. All my life I loved you. Would you think me cruel. To presume as much? Should I take more time to declare? Would I seem the fool? To admit as such? In my heart you've always been there"

Pulling her close to him, he pressed their lips together. "If I said the words. If I spoke my heart. If I said out loud what I feel. If I had the strength. Once again to start. I would risk the tide. And reveal it all. I wonder what you'd say. Wonder what you'd do. If I said "My love, I love you"." His words were soft like a whisper as he pressed their foreheads together, his breath hot against her face.

"I love you." Eponine breathed, burying her face into his shoulder. "I was so afraid that this wound would be my end."

"We were fortunate. But I will _not_ allow you to be harmed again. I'm not losing you." His hold tightened on her possessively. "You came to me in such a fated way and I would rather _die_ and burn in hell than lose you."

Eponine chuckled, "I was coming here to sneak into the Opera so that I could be near to the boy I pined for. Here I am, happily, enveloped in another man's arms, after he put our son to bed. I never imagined such a life, full of love, turmoil, strife, separation, and reunion – but I would have it no other way."

"Neither would I." Erik mused, "Now, we must sleep. If we keep this up, I may not be able to sleep beside you tonight." His words produced a girlish giggle out of Eponine, who in return pressed closer to him. "I mean it Eponine. I don't want to hurt you."

"I know." Eponine replied playfully and mischievously. "But just because I am not physically able to participat-"

"_No_." Erik hissed, catching both of her hands before she could act out on her words. "I am tired, truly, and though I would gladly choose ravishing you over being exhausted any day, but I need to rest."

Eponine pouted but ultimately relented her cause. "If you must."

"You need sleep too mon Cherie."

"Mhm." She replied, rolling over in his arms. "But I lay around _all_ day resting."

"You were stabbed."

"So I was…" Eponine retorted sarcastically.

"Sleep."

~o~

Eponine awoke to the sweet smell of freshly baked pastries. Her stomach growled anxiously at the smells. With slow movements she rose out of bed and walked into the heart of the lair.

"I was just about to wake you and Erik."

"I'll get him." Eponine smiled warmly, shaking her head as Erik opened his mouth to protest. "Let me."

With slow, purposeful steps, she made her way to her son's room. "Erik, darling, it's time to wake up. Father's brought us some tasty delights!"

Erik rolled over in the bed, covering his ears tiredly. His eyes blinked open as he looked up at his mother. "You're walking mother!"

"Yes, yes I am. Now come along my little one."

"Must _he_ dine with us? I miss just you and me."

"He is your father and he loves you very much." Eponine sighed as she sat down beside him on the bed. "You must accept him, sooner rather than later. He is trying his utmost best to show you every ounce of love that you deserve after missing ten years of your life."

"You've said this before."

"But you haven't been listening." Eponine tweaked Erik's nose. "Erik, dear, your father is trying to impress you. Music, delights, care. He waits up for you to return after visiting Christine after her rehearsals. He plays for you, whatever you'd wish, he rises early though he's exhausted to get you fine things to eat. He is overcompensating for the time he's missed out on."

"He got you nearly killed!"

"No," Eponine shook her head, "That was on both of our parts. She hates us both, not just him. I chose your father. I loved your father. This is why she hates me. Yes, Erik, is the reason – but without him there would be no you!"

"But I do not like him…"

"Why?"

Erik shook his head, burying his face in his covers. "I do not know."

"You judge him for his face?"

"No."

"I always taught you that it's not about this," Eponine covered half of her face, "But this." She pressed her palm to Erik's chest. "You know you look just like him."

"Do not."

Eponine laughed at her son's hasty response, "No, you do! You have both halves of the face he could have had. But I wouldn't want your father _any_ other way. He's perfect as he is. If he had a perfect face, he'd be half the man he is today."

Erik pouted.

"I want you to give him a chance, a _real_ chance."

"Fine." Erik threw back his covers, rising out of the bed in a solemn movement.

"Nicely give him a chance."

Erik gave a strained smile.

"It's a start."

Eponine left Erik to dress, slipping out of his room and making it towards the heavenly smells of breakfast.

"Erik is going to try to be better with you."

"What happened to letting it happen naturally?"

"If he wants to please me he'll pretend for all that he is worth and once he ceases, he will realize he liked you along."

Erik frowned.

"It's not a foolish idea!"

"It is."

Eponine crossed her arms, "I'm trying to mend the bond between you two that never had a chance to form."

"I never even knew he existed. I prayed that you and I would be reunited and that we would be able to have one child. But I never expected one that I would not know."

"We _can_ have more than one." Eponine corrected. "I wanted at least three."

Erik laughed out loud, shaking his head. "Three? In this place."

"I want there to be five of us." Eponine grinned brightly. "You know you'd like to."

"I'd like to have the chance to raise a child of ours."

They turned as the young Erik entered the room; his face was stiffened with a smile. "Good morning mother, good morning father."

"Good morning Erik." Erik replied, "I hope you would like many scrumptious pastries!"

"Yes, I am a little peckish." Erik replied, sitting down at the table beside his mother.

"Erik dear, there's no need to be _so_ stiff." Eponine petted the boy's head, kissing his forehead. His shoulders sagged and she chuckled. "It is not so hard, I promise."

"Mother are you going to have another baby? Is that why you want me to be better with _him_? You're going to forget me?"

"Don't be silly! Your father and I, may have another baby in the near future – but no one is going to replace you or make _either_ of us forget you." Eponine squeezed the little boy's hand. "We both love you more than words could explain."

"Then why have another baby?"

Eponine looked up at Erik and he was the first to speak, "Because, I want to know that I am capable of being a father. I missed out on ten crucial years of your life and I am not able to make that up, no matter how hard I try. I want to show a child how much I can love them from start to finish. I want to have that parental bond that you and I are lacking."

"I do not mind that." Erik replied cruelly, smirking at the crushed look that ran across his father's face.

"Erik!" Eponine snapped, chastising her son by taking his hand and swiftly smacking it. "I will not have that type of cruel behavior out of you. I demand that you go to your room, _now_, and do not reemerge until you have realized what you have done wrong."

"Mother-"

"_Now_."

Erik bit his lip as he ran from the dining chamber and rushed towards his room, slamming the door shut.

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. I don't expect anything from him." Erik shook his head, hanging his head.

Eponine opened her mouth but chose not to speak. Instead she moved around the table, seating herself atop his lap. "I'm sorry that he is so cruel."

"He is _my_ son. I would expect no less."

"He was never so bad before."

"My bad habits have worn off on him."

Eponine shook her head, leaning into kiss Erik. She wouldn't to wash the pain she saw in his face, far away. She didn't want to see the man she loved so much hurt so deeply by his own seed.

Erik's hands wrapped around her waist, settling her more comfortably on his lap. He let himself be engulfed by the woman astride his lap, her arms wrapped around him, and her lips pressed to his. She could mend the pain he felt with her kiss. His mask was gone in an instant, discarded on the table as an impediment to Eponine's thorough, time halting, kiss.

Erik couldn't suppress a groan as she shifted her weight. "No." He pulled his lips away from her, holding her lips still as she started to move. "You are hurt."

"But-"

"No. I do not need to try to fill this void with Erik, by filling a different void. I do not want us to have a child until some sort of pass has been made to Erik. I will not let him be pushed aside. He is _my_ son, _my_ first son. No one is going to take that away from me. I won't let them.

~o~

**A/N: "If I Said I Loved You" from Pirate Queen.**

**College is hectic. Mid-term week. 500+ terms to memorize. 9 essays to write. **

**#musn'tfail **


	69. Chapter 69

"I wish that you would see your father for everything that he is _trying_ to do for you. He is offering you the world and yet you turn your nose to him." Eponine took her son's hand, squeezing it tightly. "I want you to truly try to accept him. You are his son and you ought to respect him. I hated my father and yet I still obeyed him. Your father is not asking you to do anything that could harm you – he's asking you to care for him."

"Must we talk about this? I am tiring of this subject." Erik pulled away from his mother's hold, crossing his arms across his chest and staring at her with cold eyes.

Eponine sighed. She was truly beating a dead horse. She had thought that she had seen the light at the end of the tunnel when it came to their relationship, but it changed on a daily basis. With a shake of the head she slowly rose from his bed, pressing her hand against her wound. She knew she shouldn't be so up and about, but she was tired of lying in bed. She wanted to sing, she wanted to move, she wanted to spend time with the two people who mattered most without them having to come to her bedside.

"Are you leaving?"

"Yes. I'll just be at the organ with your father." Eponine bit her lip as she opened the door, the movement pulling painfully at her injury.

"Are you alright?"

"Fine."

"I love you mother."

Eponine smiled at Erik, disappointment marring her features. She nodded before leaving the room. It hurt her heart that he was holding such a vicious grudge against his own flesh and blood. It was scary how similar that the elder and younger father were.

Erik looked up from the organ, "You should be resting."

"Not if you're playing."

"Insufferable," Erik chuckled, scooting over on the bench and patting the cool wood. "Sit at least?"

"Yes." Eponine smiled, sitting down beside him and resting her cheek against his shoulder. "Are we ready to be parents again? He's unchangeable."

"He's _exactly_ like me."

"I know!" Eponine laughed, "I have fought with his stubborn side for ten years but it was never this bad before."

"Two matching personalities in one place. He's conflicted with you and him and you and I. He can't comprehend him and me."

"He will."

"I want a happy family. A strong unit. I want what I never had and already that was ruined for ten years."

Erik wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her close and pressing kisses to her head. "We _are_ a family. No matter how we act."

"I know." Eponine shrugged, "I just expected more."

"You should go and let Erik know he can go up and watch the rehearsal today." Erik gave her leg a reassuring squeeze, "Since you seem to be so full of energy this morning you can sing." He knew that she should stay sitting around all day, but he hated seeing her looking sad. He wanted to see her smiling and singing again.

Eponine beemed, "Will we be singing what you've been composing?"

Erik smiled, shooing her on.

~o~

Erik was mesmerized by the dancers as the danced across the stage. He wondered why Christine never seemed to be on stage, she was a graceful dancer, but they seemed to only use her to move set pieces. They shouldn't ignore her abilities simply because she was young. She could sing and dance and she was more beautiful, in his opinion, than the other girls her age.

It wasn't fair, the way they ran the shows. It shouldn't be off of age and experience it should be on talent.

He wanted to see his friend up on stage like the star he saw in her.

There _were_ ways of removing the competition. Illness…

~o~

"_Here on this night, my life begins. Starting tonight my life sails on. Tonight the dream I fought for wins. And I'm with you until the dawn."_ Eponine sang, trying to keep her posture proper despite a little burning that it caused.

"_I went to sea when I was ten. I'd sail the world for months or more. I would be leagues away, but then. I'd dream of you back on the shore. Now that you'll always be in sight. My life begins here on this night."_

Eponine smiled down at Erik as their voices joined together. "_Take my hand and make a vow. We are one. Together now. Far from home. Yet home we share land and sea. And heart and air__  
__You and I. We're Ireland on this night."_

"_We'll just declare it to the sky. In front of every star in sight. We start our life here on this night. __  
__Hand in hand. We'll keep our vow. We'll be one. Forever now. Far from home. Yet home we share. Land and sea. And heart and air. You and I. We're Ireland on this night."_

"That's beautiful. Tell me about the show." Eponine smiled as she sat down beside Erik.

"Two lovers, warring clans, Grace must marry another man and not Tiernan, the man she loves. It's tragic."

"Such an angst storyline. I thought you wrote these more depressing plays when you're depressed."

"I started on it when you were gone."

"Explains it all."

"But now that you're back I can write it with a happier ending." Erik leaned towards her, pressing a kiss to her lips. "A happy ending."

Eponine stroked her fingers through his dark hair, smiling at him quietly. She loved hearing him be happy again. Music set them both free. Music made them happy, it corrected whatever was wrong in their lives. It had been what first brought them together and now it kept them together.

"Play more songs?"

"My hands are tired." Erik confessed, glancing down at his scared hands. He had been playing the whole afternoon and he would be the last person to admit that his hands were stiff after playing. He clenched and unclenched his hands, chuckling slightly as Eponine took them and placed kisses on each of his knuckles. "Didn't make them better."

"It feels so great to finally be up and about."

"It's good to not hear you lying on the bed and complaining about lying in the bed." Erik smirked, cocking his brow at her.

"Don't give me that look."

"What look?" Erik gave her a sly smile. "I gave you no look."

"_Insufferable_." Eponine retorted, crossing her arms across her chest. "To think that I actually married you." She shook her head with a snort.

"I married such a tiresome wife. All I hear is…" He made an incoherent noise that was meant to mimic her voice.

Eponine frowned, shoving him. "All I hear out of you is…" She mocked how he had mocked her.

Erik laughed heartily, taking her hands into his. "This is why I love you. You have yet to tire of my irritating ways."

~o~

"Our daughter is quite a handsome little girl." Montparnasse whispered into Antoinette's ear as he sat down in the seat behind her.

"What are you doing here?" Antoinette hissed, turning around to look at the handsome man behind her.

"Red head, naturally curly hair. Her body's a perfect hour glass. Her _legs_." Montparnasse chuckled at the look on Antoinette's face. "A man does move on."

"Why are you here?"

Montparnasse glanced at his pocket watch, "She told me she'd be off in half an hour. I chose to come and look in on her rehearsing. And to see you." He whispered close to her ear, "I also wished to see _our_ child."

"It doesn't matter to you. I've raised her on the belief that her father is dead. You will not intervene."

"Then you shouldn't have told me." Montparnasse sat back in the seat, looking around the theatre proudly. "Isn't it remarkable that I've taken a turn for better fortunes?"

"Who did you rob?"

"He was an old convict. Lost his life in the war trying to save some young rebel. 'Ponine would know the house we robbed. But, 'Ponine's forsaken all of those days."

"Must we speak of _her_?" Antoinette felt an uneasy feeling setting in as she thought about her attack against Eponine.

"Testy." 'Parnasse smirked, "Now, if you'd excuse me I'd like to watch _Adele_."

"Arrogant…" Antoinette hissed, rising to her feet and walking towards the stage. She began shouting at the dancers and pointing out every mistake, even the smallest little missed point of the toe that would have been concealed by the long flowing dresses they wore.

Had she killed Eponine?

Surely by now Erik would have attacked and the little boy wouldn't be so merrily running around with Christine.

**A/N: I'd like to let you all know that I have a tumblr! And my Miss Fleck costume is on there, that I made if you'd like to review or message me about it! (: **


	70. Chapter 70

"Living in the shadows, hiding from the sunlight - hiding from the one light that might help to guide you.  
Hiding from tomorrow, hiding from the day only brings a sorrow. That won't go away. Wand'ring in the darkness, living ev'ry midnight. Doesn't ever rid night of nightmares as love might. Life is full of dangers, strangers ev'ry turn. Living in the shadows that's no way to learn."

Eponine quietly tiptoed out into the main chamber of the lair, admiring as Erik worked a way at the piano, singing an unfamiliar and new song. It was sad, it reminded her of the music he used to play before she'd fully wedged herself into his life. Sure he still roamed in shadows, ashamed of his cheek and his deformed morals and personality. He saw himself as damaged goods no matter how many times she stroked his cheek and kissed away his worries. She knew Gustave tormented him, but she didn't understand why he reverted backwards – especially with a new baby possibly on the way.

"The more you learn, the more you seek. The more you find, the more you care. The more the world is kind. One thing I can tell you: life should be your lover. Help you to discover your reason for being. Soon you will be seeing what you're all about. Living in the shadows, you'll never find out. Living in the shadows  
I'll never find out."

"What do you think of it Eponine?" Erik asked, turning around and meeting her gaze with heated eyes. It a quiet furious glare that struck her to the core.

"I-" was at a loss for words. Since she'd been back she hadn't seen him become angry with her watching him play. "Heard you playing."

"And?"

"It's beautiful." She felt as if she'd been thrown back in time to a time where they were strangers. "I didn't mean to interrupt you."

Erik watched her retreat back towards the bed room and he cleared his throat, "Would you care to come and sing for me?"

"Perhaps I should rest…"

"You could come and sit beside me while I compose." He'd seen that he'd been too cruel towards her, too quick to act out towards her harmless spying. "I didn't mean to snap."

Eponine bit her lip, "I was afraid there. We had been alright for so long… I wondered what had changed."

"Nothing, I'm just thinking about Gustave, that's all. Do I deserve a second try at a child when I've failed with him?"

"Of course! You were taken from unnaturally. It was out of your control. You deserve to be a father for real."

"I hardly know how to father a child, I've had no model. Look at how I treat you."

"Far better than anyone's ever treated me."

"I _kidnapped_ you because I felt _alone_. I had to force someone for company."

"But then our souls found each other." Eponine clutched her bosom.

Erik shrugged his shoulders, "But did we really fall in love?"

"You question your love? You _married _me." It was fitting that her "prince charming" wasn't as she'd thought, just as her mother had always said about her father.

"No!" Erik nearly shouted the word, sending papers fluttering to the ground. "Of course not! I just mean…We were so quick to think we were in love and I think I'm only now comprehending _love_. With Gustave I thought I loved him even before he was born, but now I feel this love for him despite him being a disappointment. Love is there no matter what's happening. Good or bad."

Eponine smiled, clearing the distance in a matter of seconds and wrapping her arms around him. His arms warmly wrapped around her and held her to him. "You've changed so much."

"You've helped me understand _so_ much. Life and death, together and separate, love and hate, desire and need, so much." Erik chuckled suddenly, "This song I was writing is foolish. That's why I wrote something darker." He passed her the half scribbled score for an untitled piece.

"Yesterday I loved you as never before, but please don't think me strange. I've undergone a change and today I love you even more! My heart cannot be trusted, I give you fair warning. I openly confess tonight I love you less than I will tomorrow morning!" Eponine felt her emotions rise and swell. "Good Lord, I _must_ be pregnant to be this sappy."

Erik wiped away a tear, "I'm afraid to be too happy because something always happens. The Fates intervene."

"I know." Eponine whispered, leaning against his shoulder.

~o~

"Where would I find _Adele_?" Montparnasse smirked as he approached Antoinette during a break in the rehearsals. Ballerinas busily moved about the opera house, lounging in empty seats with their gracious legs resting over the tops, some stretching in tempting ways. It was _just_ his sort of atmosphere, which he knew tortured Antoinette.

"Perhaps back on the streets were the sorts like her find themselves."

"You fired her?" 'Parnasse was proud of Antoinette for having the gall do to such a thing. "Jealousy makes one do such beautiful things." He'd miss the red head as a bedfellow, but was sure he'd find a replacement in no time amongst flirtatious and young ballerinas. They'd taken one look at him when he'd walked in and truly started working their "stuff".

"She was a poor ballerina. Never stretched-"

"She _stretched_ good for me."

Antoinette thumped Montparnasse on the ear, "Enough of your sexual mockeries. I will not have you prowling my girls as some sort of sick revenge against me. I do not want you back."

"Stiff shoulders," he stroked his hand down her arm. "Harsh features," her cheek. "Cold eyes with a hint of jealousy," he smirked into her gaze. "Just like I like them." Without warning he caught her cheeks and kissed her with a sudden ferocity. "Now if you excuse me, there's a pretty little tart that's stretching most seductively."

"Bastard." She gritted as he coolly brushed past her.

"You had the bastard daughter after all." He retorted without a second glance back. She was left to watch as a young blond ballerina rose to her elegant feet and sauntered over towards Montparnasse. He oozed charm and it made her sick to know that she'd ever fallen into his arms. But they were arms she craved almost more than she craved to be with _him_.

**A/N: *cough*filler*cough* 1****st**** song is from Victor/Victoria and the second lyrics are from "Once Upon a Mattress". **


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